GEORGE  WENDERN 
GAVE  A  PARTY 


GEORGE  WENDERN  GAVE  A  PARTY 


BY 

JOHN  INGLIS 


Hans  BreUmann  gife  a  barly — 
Vhere  ish  dot  barty  now? 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1912 


COPYRIGHT,  1912,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Dramatic  and  All  Rights  Reserved 
Published  May,  1912 


GEORGE  WENDERN  GAVE 
A  PARTY 


CHAPTER  I 

BUT  the  party  comes  far  on  in  the  story. 
When  George  Wendern  had  realised  that 
the  details  of  the  house  in  Princes  Gate  bothered 
him,  he  engaged  Mrs.  Berwick  to  look  after  them. 
This  was  how  she  came  to  be  seated  at  a  writing- 
table  in  the  morning-room  going  through  a  pile  of 
tradesmen's  books.  Beside  her  was  a  bowl  of 
roses  with  the  breath  of  summer  in  them,  though 
as  yet  it  was  only  spring;  she  stooped  over  them, 
delighting  in  the  luxury  of  their  being  there  more 
than  in  their  beauty.  The  French  window  stood 
wide  open,  letting  in  the  sunshine  and  the  sweet 
still  air.  Two  steps  led  down  to  a  small  flower- 
garden,  with  a  light  iron  fence  and  a  little  gate 
marking  out  its  boundary;  beyond  the  gate  was 
the  well-mown  lawn,  common  to  the  tenants  of 
all  the  houses.  The  room  itself  was  furnished  in 
a  manner  that  suggested  wealth  and  a  certain 
amount  of  refinement;  and  Mrs.  Berwick  looked 
almost,  not  quite,  like  the  right  person  to  be  in  it. 
She  was  fairly  young;  there  were  days  when  she 
might  have  been  thirty,  others  when  the  lines 
about  her  mouth  suggested  the  nearness  of  forty; 
pleasant-looking  without  being  exactly  pretty,  a 

3 


George  Wendern 

pile  of  light-brown  hair  on  the  top  of  her  head,  and 
eyes  that  were  blue  or  green  or  grey,  it  depended 
on  the  shadows;  occasionally,  but  only  for  a  mo- 
ment, there  was  an  expression  in  them  that  was 
shifty  and  adventurous,  or  anxious  and  question- 
ing, the  outcome  probably  of  remembered  strug- 
gles and  worries.  Her  figure  was  good,  her  waist 
small,  her  dress  well-made;  on  her  wrist  she  wore 
a  blue  enamel  watch  bracelet  fastened  with  a 
leather  strap,  on  her  fingers  a  few  rings  of  no  par- 
ticular value;  altogether  she  made  an  agreeable 
addition  to  the  room. 

But  she  appeared  to  be  uneasy.  She  opened  a 
book  and  looked  at  it,  evidently  to  gain  time,  put 
down  some  make-believe  notes  on  the  blotting- 
paper  in  front  of  her,  and  then  suddenly,  with  an 
air  of  bewilderment  and  boredom,  glanced  at  her 
sister,  Mrs.  Rigg,  who  sat  on  a  sofa  patiently  wait- 
ing. It  was  only  half-past  ten.  Relations  had 
no  business  to  come  so  early,  she  thought,  or  to 
come  at  all,  unless  they  knew  how  to  dress  and 
look  prosperous. 

Mrs.  Rigg  looked  dowdy,  she  obviously  belonged 
to  the  middle  class,  she  was  forty-five,  her  manner 
was  conciliatory,  nimble,  and  a  little  nervous. 

"I'm  always  so  busy  in  the  morning,"  Mrs.  Ber- 
wick explained.  "I  wish  you  had  come  at  some 
other  time — and  written  first." 

4 


Gave  a  Party 

"I  thought  I  should  be  sure  to  catch  you,  that 
he  would  have  gone  to  his  office. " 

"Sometimes  he  doesn't  go  to  the  office  at  all." 
Mrs.  Berwick  looked  at  her  sister's  hands,  they 
were  thick-fingered  and  ugly,  then  down  at  her 
own  which  were  white  and  shapely;  she  considered 
them  a  good  asset. 

"What  does  he  do?"  Mrs.  Rigg's  voice  was  a 
pleasantly  inquiring  one. 

"I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  care,"  Mrs.  Ber- 
wick was  almost  snappy;  as  if  ashamed  of  it,  she 
went  over  to  the  couch  and  sat  down  by  her  visi- 
tor. "I  can  give  you  five  minutes  more,"  she 
said  in  a  kinder  tone,  "then  you  must  go;  you  do 
understand,  don't  you,  dear?"  She  put  out  her 
hand  and  felt  the  texture  of  Mrs.  Rigg's  brown 
skirt.  "You  mustn't  mind  my  saying  it." 

"Of  course  not.     Is  he  at  home  then?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  came  down  to  breakfast 
quite  early,  I  think  he  went  for  an  hour's  ride — 
but  he  generally  comes  in  at  this  time  to  arrange 
things  for  the  day. " 

"  Do  you  see  much  of  him  ? " 

"No.  But  I  always  use  that  writing-table,  he 
calls  it  mine,  and  I'm  always  here  in  the  morning 
ready  for  him.  He  likes  this  room,  you  see  it  leads 
out  to  the  garden,"  Mrs.  Berwick  gave  a  signifi- 
cant smile,  which  conveyed  nothing  to  Mrs.  Rigg; 

S 


George  Wendern 

"do  put  on  your  gloves,  your  hands  look  so" — 
she  hesitated — "so  bad." 

Mrs.  Rigg  was  rather  offended,  "I  have  had  to 
work,  and  my  hands  show  it. " 

"I  know,  dear,  you've  been  splendid." 
.    "And  I'm  going  directly." 

"Perhaps  you  had  better,"  Mrs.  Berwick  tried 
to  say  it  reluctantly.  "  If  he  comes  in  he  doesn't 
expect  to  find  any  of  my  friends  here. " 

"Of  course  not,"  Mrs.  Rigg  meekly  agreed. 

"I've  been  trying  to  come  and  see  you;  but  it's 
such  a  long  way  and  I've  had  so  much  worry  with 
my  clothes. " 

"You  always  look  nice,  somehow." 

"I  wish  I  did.  Mercifully  Princes  Gate  is  a 
good  address,  and  if  one  walks  into  a  big  shop  with 
an  air,  gives  enough  trouble  and  is  sufficiently  in- 
solent, it's  possible  to  get  credit  for  a  few  things; 
but  of  course  my  name  isn't  in  the  directory  as 
living  here,  and  bills  do  come  in — it's  dreadful. " 

"I'm  so  sick  of  bills." 

"We  all  are.  I  hope  Fred's  going  on  all  right?" 
Fred  was  Mr.  Rigg.  "He  must  have  missed  you 
all  that  time  you  were  at  Herne  Bay. " 

"  He  did,  and  he  was  out  such  a  long  time — and 
we  had  so  many  expenses. " 

Mrs.  Berwick  felt  that  the  tone  had  meaning 
in  it,  and  said  quickly,  "I  know,  I'd  help  you  if  I 

6 


Gave  a  Party 

could,  but  everything's  so  difficult."  Her  voice 
was  a  fighting  one,  though  it  was  soft  and  human. 

The  battle  of  life  had  told  on  both  sisters.  On 
Mrs.  Rigg  outwardly:  it  accounted  for  her  make- 
shift clothes,  her  scanty  badly  done  hair,  the  lines 
on  her  face,  her  thin  throat  and  nervous  hands; 
obviously  she  was  poor,  and  tried  hard  not  to  be 
envious  of  her  more  presentable  sister. 

On  Mrs.  Berwick  it  had  told  inwardly;  for  she 
looked  fairly  prosperous  and  she  had  kept  some 
sort  of  pace  with  the  world.  She  had  always  been 
to  theatres,  or  at  any  rate  could  talk  about  them, 
about  people,  fashion,  politics,  music,  in  fact  any- 
thing; but  she  had  grown  self-regarding,  and  her 
manner  suggested  an  anxiety  to  do  the  best  she 
could  for  herself.  Yet  there  were  charming  things 
latent  in  her  nature.  And  she  had  sentiment. 
Long  ago  it  had  caused  her  to  marry  a  drunken 
lout,  a  man  whose  family  had  discarded  him  to 
live  on  such  borrowings  as  he  could  get.  She  had 
loved  him,  tried  to  reform  him,  been  beaten,  sworn 
at,  disgusted,  but  all  the  time  she  was  faithful  to 
him.  She  grieved  for  him  when  he  died,  hating 
herself  for  the  underlying  relief  it  was;  she  had 
worn  deep  and  extremely  becoming  mourning  for 
him,  feeling  it  to  be  his  due,  that  it  was  not  paid 
for  made  it  seem  curiously  appropriate.  After  an 
interval  which  she  considered  decent  (she  had  a 

7 


George  Wendern 

sincere  respect  for  the  amenities),  she  set  out  with 
undaunted  determination  to  get  her  own  living. 
There  had  been  many  phases,  but  they  were  of 
no  importance  now  that  she  had  arrived  at  Princes 
Gate.  "I  live  here  in  every  luxury,"  she  told  her 
sister  after  a  pause,  "but  I  haven't  a  shilling  in  my 
pocket. " 

"You  look  as  if  you  had  pounds." 

"  I  know.     One  must  do  that. " 

"Don't  Cyril's  relations  do  anything  for  you?" 

"Nothing.  Lady  Berwick  gave  me  to  under- 
stand they  never  would.  They  sent  me  some  cast- 
off  clothes  at  first  and  invited  me  to  luncheon  now 
and  then,  and  generally  offered  to  drive  me  after- 
wards so  that  they  might  drop  me  and  get  rid  of 
me,  which  they  did  with  great  readiness.  The 
only  money  they  gave  me  was  to  advertise  for  a 
post,  and  then  they  insisted  on  my  cutting  out 
the  advertisement  and  sending  it  to  them.  It's 
no  good  counting  on  me  for  I'm  broke,  my  dear, 
stony-broke. " 

"  But  surely  you  get  a  good  deal  from  Mr,  Wen- 
dern? He  must  be  rich?" 

"I  don't  know." 

Mrs.  Rigg  looked  round.  "The  things  in  this 
room  are  very  handsome. " 

"I  wonder  sometimes  what  they'll  fetch  when 
they're  second-hand." 

8 


Gave  a  Party 

Mrs.  Rigg  turned  upon  her  sister  quickly,  here 
was  a  clue  to  a  situation  from  which  she  felt  her- 
self excluded,  "Are  you  anxious  about  him?" 

"Not  precisely  anxious;  but  I  wish  I  knew  more 
about  him.  You  see  he  comes  from  Australia " 

"  I  never  like  Colonials,  you  can't  measure  them 
in  any  way." 

"He's  not  a  bit  like  one.  I  believe  his  father 
rolled  in  money,  and  I'm  sure  I  hope  he  does." 
Mrs.  Berwick  was  silent  for  a  moment  before  she 
added  with  a  sigh,  "But  he's  so  absent  and  dreamy 
and  inconsequent,  you  can't  tell.  He's  mixed  up 
with  a  syndicate,  that's  why  he  goes  to  an  office, 
but  he  never  says  anything  about  it. " 

"Does  he  know  much  about  you?" 

"Nothing.  I  am  one  of  those  women,  my  dear, 
who  don't  talk  about  themselves:  they  are  few 
and  wise. " 

"You  never  told  me  how  you  got  here.  It  was 
while  I  was  away,  I  was  so  surprised.  How  did 
you  manage  it?" 

"Through  an  advertisement." 

"But  didn't  you  make  any  inquiries  about 
him?" 

"None.  I  was  so  sick  of  putting  it  in: — 'A 
young  widow,  thirty-two " 

"And  a  little  more,"  Mrs.  Rigg  gave  a  quick 
laugh. 

9 


George  Wendern 

Mrs.  Berwick's  tone  showed  that  it  annoyed  her. 
She  went  on  severely,  "'highly  accomplished,  ac- 
customed to  the  best  society,  wishes  to  find  a  post 
as  lady-housekeeper  to  a  gentleman  of  position. 
Is  accustomed  to  manage  servants,  has  travelled, 
can  ride  and  drive.  Highest  references,  salary  no 
object.'  I  spent  four  pounds  on  that  advertise- 
ment and  only  had  three  answers. " 

Mrs.  Rigg  was  much  interested,  she  was  so 
seldom  given  particulars  of  her  sister's  doings. 
"What  were  the  other  two?" 

"One  was  from  a  clergyman  in  Lincolnshire: 
sixty-five  if  he  was  a  day  and  a  water-drinker. 
Temperance  people  ought  to  be  taxed,  then  if  they 
didn't  help  the  revenue  in  one  way  they  would  in 
another.  I  came  away  and  nearly  took  to  my 
bed."  She  stopped  for  a  moment.  "The  other 
was  from  a  young  idiot  in  Piccadilly  who  had 
inherited  a  large  fortune  on  coming  of  age;  but  it 
was  spent  before  he  answered  my  advertisement. 
He  had  a  bad  complexion,  and  asked  what  my 
Christian  name  was.  I  told  him  I  couldn't  come 
without  a  chaperon,"  she  laughed  at  the  remem- 
brance; "he  was  immensely  relieved  when  I  took 
my  departure. " 

"And  the  third  was  Mr.  Wendern?" 

Mrs.  Berwick  nodded.  "He  received  me  with 
a  deference  for  which  I  could  have  kissed  him; 

10 


Gave  a  Party 

unfortunately  it  wasn't  possible.  He  explained 
that  he  wanted  a  lady  to  look  after  his  house, 
order  dinner,  able  to  head  a  table  if  necessary,  and 
that  he  liked  things  done  so  that  they  could  be 
seen  with  the  naked  eye.  He  said  nothing  about 
salary,"  Mrs.  Berwick  added  regretfully;  she  was 
rather  enjoying  the  confidences  to  her  sister  now 
that  she  was  well  into  them. 
"And  you  didn't?" 

"I  felt  that  even  to  mention  it  would  imply  that 
I  belonged  to  a  lower  set  than  the  one  to  which  he 
evidently  thought  I  belonged. " 

"Still,  I  should  have  given  him  a  hint " 

"Let  me  arrange  my  own  affairs,  Maria.  I  fear 
I  shall  not  be  here  much  longer,  for  he  is  devoted 
to  Miss  Fiffer,  a  great  American  heiress.  She 
lives  ten  doors  off  round  the  corner,  you  can  see 
her  windows,"  she  nodded  towards  the  garden, 
"and  they  meet  every  day;  I  believe  they  only 
took  the  house  to  be  near  him.  If  he  marries  her 
I  shall  be  dispensed  with,  but  meanwhile  I  shall 
gain  nothing  by  worrying  him;  only  to  be  sent 
away  perhaps,  to  advertise  again  in  the  daily 
papers — "  the  door  opened,  she  repressed  a 
start,  "Oh,  Rogers,  what  is  it?"  as  the  butler 
entered. 

"  Mr.  Bulson  would  like  to  speak  to  you,  ma'am. " 
"Mr.  Bulson?  let  me  see,  oh  yes,  the  wine  mer- 
II 


George  Wendern 

chant,  ask  him  to  come  in. "  She  turned  hurriedly 
to  her  sister  when  Rogers  had  gone,  "You  must 
go,  dear." 

"Of  course,  I  quite  understand,"  they  kissed 
each  other,  "remember  our  new  address,  19  Cran- 
berry Gardens,  Hammersmith." 

"Yes,  of  course.  Good-bye,  dear.  I'll  do  what 
I  can,  you  know  I  always  play  up  if  it's  possible. " 

"I  know  you  do."  One  sister  went  meekly  out 
while  the  other  sister  sat  down  by  the  writing- 
table  and  became  absorbed  in  the  household 
books  till  the  door  opened  again. 

Mr.  Bulson  was  a  gentlemanlike  man  with  a 
tall  hat  which  he  carried  in  his  hand,  he  wore  a 
frock-coat  and  grey  trousers;  his  appearance  sug- 
gested church  on  Sunday  as  well  as  commercial 
activity  on  week-days. 

"Good-morning,  madam,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Berwick  raised  her  eyes  with  a  slightly 
abstracted  air  and  answered  coldly,  "Good-morn- 
ing, Mr.  Bulson. " 

They  looked  at  each  other  for  a  moment.  "I 
have  come  about  our  account,"  he  said. 

She  smiled  with  surprise.     "Your  account?" 

"It  is  very  considerable,  and  we  should  like  to 
see  it  paid." 

"Paid?  It  will  be  paid  when  Mr.  Wendern  has 
time  to  remember  it. " 

12 


Gave  a  Party 

"We  have  sent  him  a  good  many  letters  on  the 
subject,"  he  said  firmly. 

"Which  was  very  unwise  of  you.  You  have 
lost  an  excellent  customer,"  her  tone  was  almost 
confidential. 

"I  should  be  sorry  to  think  that." 

"But  you  have — "  she  shook  her  head  regret- 
fully. 

"Oh  well — "  Then  an  idea  evidently  struck 
him.  He  looked  round  and  hesitated.  "Could 
you,  my  dear  madam,  in  strict  confidence,  of 
course,  tell  us  anything  about  Mr.  Wendern's 
position?" 

"Position?"  she  seemed  a  little  bewildered;  he 
wondered  whether  it  was  innocence  or  bluff. 

"Perhaps  you  will  allow  me  to  sit  down  for  a 
moment?"  He  felt  that  the  interview  was  be- 
coming interesting. 

She  nodded;  he  took  the  chair  on  the  other  side 
of  the  writing-table;  his  manner  was  still  defer- 
ential; but  she  knew  perfectly  that  he  had  made 
inquiries  as  to  her  position  in  the  house.  "I 
understand  that  you  are  Mr.  Wendern's  adviser 
and  manager  here.  I  need  hardly  say  that  to  a 
firm  like  ours  immediate  payment  of  an  account 
is  of  no  consequence;  but  we  want  to  be  assured 
that  it  is  safe " 

"A  millionaire's  account!" 

13 


George  Wendern 

Mr.  Bulson  looked  round  again.  "A  million- 
aire doesn't  live  as  quietly  as  he  does  now,  for  he 
has  drawn  in  this  year.  We  very  seldom  see  his 
name  in  the  newspapers — at  fashionable  parties 
for  instance. " 

"He  is  tired  of  them.  He  goes  to  the  opera  a 
good  deal,  he  is  always  out,  and — "  she  stopped, 
for  she  had  not  the  least  idea  where  he  went.  "  He 
likes  the  opera,"  she  added  lamely. 

"I  saw  him  there  the  other  night  with  an  ex- 
tremely handsome  young  lady — and  her  mother, 
I  presume?  But  I  made  inquiries  and  found  it 
was  their  box,  not  his. " 

"They  have  taken  one  for  the  season;  it  was 
Mrs.  Fiffer's  box;  her  daughter  is  an  immense 
heiress, "  she  added  significantly. 

"Humph — I  see,  but  I  have  an  idea  that  the 
reason  Mr.  Wendern  does  not  entertain  now  is 
that  he  feels  the  necessity  for  retrenchment,  the 
tiredness  may  be  only  an  excuse. " 

Mrs.  Berwick  was  surprised  and  a  little  hurt. 
"He  said,  quite  lately,  that  he  wanted  to  live  as  a 
man  should  who  was  well-off,  but  with  only  Colo- 
nial money.  I  think  he  dislikes  ostentation." 

"May  I  take  it  that  your  own  presence  here  is  a 
proof  that  he  is  at  any  rate  well-off?" 

She  gave  a  quick  nod  that  reassured  her  listener. 
He  took  her  to  be  more  worldly  than  she  was,  her 

H 


Gave  a  Party 

clear  eyes  seemed  to  him  to  be  accustomed  to 
gather  in  main  chances.  "Thank  you."  He 
rose  to  go.  "We  should  be  sorry  to  lose  his 
custom — 

"It  would  be  a  pity,"  she  gravely  agreed.  "I 
feel  sure  that  you  will  get  a  cheque  when  he  re- 
members to  write  it,  or  is  reminded  at  the  right 
moment. "  She  turned  towards  the  writing-table. 

"Thank  you,  madam."  He  stopped  when  he 
was  half-way  to  the  door;  his  manner  became  a 
shade  more  familiar.  "If  there  is  any  friend  of 
yours,  or" — as  if  he  were  afraid  of  being  untactful 
— "any  charitable  case  in  which  you  are  interested, 
we  should  be  delighted  if  you  would  allow  us  to 
send  a  little  champagne,  or  a  dozen  of  invalid  port 
— to  anyone  in  fact  who  has  gained  your  sym- 
pathy. " 

"How  very  thoughtful  of  you,  Mr.  Bulson,"  she 
said,  "but  I  shouldn't  like  to  take  advantage  of 
your  kindness. " 

"The  kindness  would  be  on  your  side."  He 
waited  and  a  little  smile  came  to  his  eyes. 

"There  is  a  poor  soul  I'm  much  interested  in. 
She  has  a  delicate  chest  and  suffers  dreadfully  from 
bronchitis.  She  lives  at  19  Cranberry  Gardens, 
Hammersmith.  I  feel  sure  a  little  champagne 
would  be  a  blessing  to  her,  would  prolong  her  life 
perhaps " 

IS 


George  Wendern 


"I'm  sure  it  would." 

"She  likes  it  very  dry.'* 

"It  shall  be  sent."  He  took  out  a  note-book. 
"  19  Cranberry  Gardens,  Mrs.  Rigg,  very  dry.  It 
shall  be  attended  to  at  once. " 

"It's  very  kind  of  you."  She  held  outlier  hand. 
He  shook  it  cordially.  "That  poor  thing  is  so 
delicate. " 

"I  hope  it  will  do  her  good."  He  departed 
brisk  and  satisfied. 

Mrs.  Berwick  put  her  elbows  on  the  table  and 
rested  her  face  in  her  hands.  "I  would  give  any- 
thing in  the  world  to  know,"  she  thought.  "Oh, 
I  wonder,  I  wonder — "  The  door  opened  and 
Rogers  entered  with  the  air  that  meant  another 
dun. 

"The  newsagent  has  sent  for  his  account  again. " 
He  put  it  down  on  the  table. 

"How  much  is  it?"  She  had  recovered  in  a 
moment;  her  manner  was  admirable. 

"Nineteen  pounds  seventeen  and  twopence. 
'The  Times'  and  four  other  dailies,  including  the 
evening " 

She  pushed  the  bill  away  and  bent  over  her 
books  as  if  she  had  no  time  for  such  trifling. 
"Take  it  away  and  tell  him  that  Mr.  Wendern 
never  writes  a  cheque  for  less  than  twenty-five." 

"Very  well,  ma'am,  I'll  tell  him. " 
16 


Gave  a  Party 

She  could  have  groaned  with  relief  as  he  shut 
the  door.  But  it  amused  her  too,  for  after  all, 
on  a  smaller  scale,  this  was  only  the  situation  of 
the  first  days  of  her  marriage.  She  had  rather 
liked  putting  off  the  duns  then:  it  was  a  new  ex- 
perience, and  she  took  it  to  be  characteristic  of 
the  higher  social  plane  on  which  her  husband  had 
placed  her.  Later,  when  she  had  been  a  drudge, 
a  hungry  dreading  creature  hiding  from  the  man 
whose  habits  were  in  a  measure  a  revelation  to  her, 
she  had  played  the  game  of  outwitting  creditors 
with  desperation  instead  of  amusement.  "I 
don't  believe  this  billet  will  last  long,"  she  said  to 
herself.  "I  wonder  whether  he  is  a  millionaire  or 
a  beggar — or  an  impostor?"  She  shook  her  head 
at  the  last  word,  as  if  to  discount  it.  "If  only 
that  backwoodsman  would  come  again,  I  could 
find  out." 

The  "backwoodsman,"  as  she  called  him,  had 
appeared  on  the  scene  a  few  days  before — one  Joe 
Parker.  Mrs.  Berwick  gathered  that  he  had  known 
Wendern  out  in  Australia.  A  little  talk  with  him 
might  set  her  doubts  at  rest.  She  had  only  spoken 
to  him  for  a  minute,  for  though  Wendern  had 
introduced  her,  when  she  had  made  some  remark 
about  the  weather  she  had  to  discreetly  vanish. 
But  she  had  seen  that  the  friends  liked  each  other. 
They  went  out  together,  and  Wendern  remarked 

17 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

the  next  morning  that  Parker  would  turn  up  again 
in  a  day  or  two.  A  rough  diamond,  but  somehow 
she  felt  him  to  be  a  real  one.  She  awaited  his 
second  visit  with  interest:  it  was  a  detail  that  she 
had  discovered  his  eyes  to  be  very  blue,  and  had 
seen  in  them,  when  he  looked  at  her,  an  expression 
that  she  felt  to  be  pleasant  admiration  or  friend- 
liness. 


18 


CHAPTER  II 

EVERY  one  had  met  George  Wendern  five 
years  ago.  He  was  supposed  to  be  a  mill- 
ionaire, and  had  come  from  the  other  side  of  the 
world.  But  little  besides  was  known  of  him.  He 
never  talked  of  himself — nor  of  anything  much  as 
a  rule;  but  it  was  wonderful  how  expressive  peo- 
ple found  his  silence:  women  did  especially,  and 
ran  after  him  trying  to  beguile  him  to  their  din- 
ner-parties and  their  week-ends  in  the  country. 
He  went  everywhere  for  a  season,  at  first  curiously 
and  then  reluctantly,  arriving  late  and  leaving 
early,  till  the  time  came  when  he  refused  most 
things  for  fear  of  forgetting  them  later.  During 
his  first  year  in  London  he  frequently  gave  parties 
himself,  occasionally  he  gave  one  in  the  second 
year;  but  it  was  noticed  that  he  looked  on  at  them 
with  an  air  of  not  much  interested  surprise,  al- 
most as  if  he  were  making  an  experiment  he  did 
not  find  exciting.  They  were  done  well,  but  care- 
lessly managed;  of  the  applause  that  was  heaped 
on  them,  the  eagerness  to  come  to  them,  he  ap- 
peared to  be  unconscious,  or,  if  told  of  it,  amused 
and  incredulous.  There  was  a  curious  fascination 
about  him.  He  was  three-and-thirty  perhaps, 

19 


George  Wendern 

fairly  tall,  silent  and  reserved,  with  sometimes  an 
almost  uncanny  look  in  his  soft  dark  eyes  and  a 
smile  that  came  seldom,  but  that  gave  evidence  of 
the  charm  and  almost  simplicity  of  his  nature. 
He  seemed  to  be  looking  on  at  life,  a  little  mystified 
at  what  he  saw,  to  be  expecting,  waiting,  for  some 
meaning  to  develop  itself,  of  his  own  share  in  it 
at  any  rate,  and,  till  it  came,  to  be  holding  himself 
back,  reserving  some  latent  force. 

The  queer  thing  was  that  Wendern  appeared 
first  under  the  auspices  of  Christopher  Lant. 
Lant  was  a  vulgar  man,  stout,  easy,  and  good- 
natured,  immensely  rich,  or  reputed  to  be,  who  was 
taken  on  his  face  value  when  he  suddenly  came 
from  nowhere,  a  man  who  knew  everybody,  but 
nobody  knew  how;  and  went  everywhere,  no  one 
knew  why — for  a  time.  He  lent  money  to  men  if 
they  gave  him  a  chance,  sent  flowers  and  opera- 
boxes  to  women,  chocolates  and  mechanical  toys 
to  children,  entertained  lavishly,  subscribed  to 
charities,  and  just  as  it  was  beginning  to  be  said 
that  he  \vas  a  speculator,  a  company  promoter, 
extravagant  in  small  sums  while  he  harvested  big 
ones  for  his  own  benefit,  he  introduced  George 
Wendern,  who  was  at  least  ten  years  his  junior, 
and  had  an  altogether  different  personality.  Peo- 
ple wondered  how  the  two  men  came  to  be  friends, 
and  were  told  that  they  had  known  each  other  in 

20 


Gave  a  Party 

the  colonies;  but  it  was  remarked  that  Wendern's 
manner  was  always  a  little  distant,  as  if  the  in- 
timacy, if  it  could  be  called  one,  were  forced,  and 
at  the  elder  man's  ostentatious  parties,  his  dinners, 
theatre-goings,  and  suppers,  he  was  never  to  be 
seen. 

Just  before  Lant  went  away — he  was  of  the  type 
that  always  discreetly  goes  away — the  prospectus 
of  the  Bangor  Estates  Syndicate  appeared.  He 
flourished  about  it  a  good  deal,  and  persuaded 
Wendern  not  only  to  put  many  thousands  into  it, 
but  to  become  its  managing  director  in  England, 
as  he  himself  was  in  Australia.  Wendern  resented 
the  one  or  two  titled  guinea-pigs  whose  names  were 
mixed  up  with  it;  but  Lant  told  him  this  was 
necessary  in  England,  and  it  never  occurred  to 
him,  since  he  trusted  his  friends  as  a  matter  of 
course,  to  doubt  Lant's  good  faith.  Lant  put 
all  sorts  of  people  into  the  Syndicate,  and  some 
who  knew  Wendern  followed  them;  for  if  Wendern 
had  no  intimate  friends,  many  people  were  at- 
tracted by  him — even  those  who  only  came  ac- 
cidentally into  contact  with  him  felt  his  curious 
magnetism. 

He  was  rather  amused  at  being  "boss"  of  the 
English  office.  Money  had  never  been  a  difficulty 
to  him:  it  had  come  and  gone  so  easily,  and  come 
again  with  never  any  embarrassment  to  him,  that 

21 


'  George  Wendern 

the  responsibility  of  managing  it,  of  having  to  do 
with  money  belonging  to  other  people,  and  of  its 
actual  necessity  to  himself,  never  occurred  to  him. 
Once  in  the  long  years  ago,  before  he  could  remem- 
ber anything,  his  people  had  been  poor;  but  it 
hadn't  mattered :  poverty  under  a  blue  sky,  where 
necessities  are  few  and  luxuries  as  scarce  as  unde- 
sired,  and  good  fellowship  a  matter  of  course,  is  a 
different  thing  from  poverty  in  a  city. 

When  he  first  came  to  England  he  took  a  suite  of 
rooms  at  the  Carlton,  but  after  a  time  he  resented 
the  other  people  in  the  hotel.  The  eating  and 
drinking,  the  dresses  of  the  women,  the  inane  ex- 
pression of  the  men — this  was  in  his  second  Lon- 
don season — irritated  him.  He  used  to  see  them 
when  he  returned  from  a  lonely  stroll  over  Putney 
Bridge,  or  to  Richmond,  where  the  windings  of  the 
Thames,  glimmering  through  the  darkness,  had  an 
unceasing  fascination  for  him.  Later,  for  a  little 
space,  it  occurred  to  him  to  investigate  the  Em- 
bankment after  a  theatre  or  some  function  that 
had  bored  him,  and  the  sight  of  the  poverty- 
stricken  waifs  and  strays  haunted  him;  and  then, 
more  than  ever,  he  shrank  from  the  Carlton.  He 
resented  especially  the  gobblers  and  guzzlers  in 
the  softly  shaded  restaurant,  clattering  their 
knives  and  forks  and  clinking  their  glasses,  when 
they  would  have  been  better  off  in  their  beds  with 

22 


Gave  a  Party 

the  windows  open  and  the  breath  of  heaven  com- 
ing in  to  purify  their  fatuous  souls  and  suggest 
some  meaning  to  life. 

Some  meaning  to  life?  Unconsciously  he  was 
looking  for  it,  and  felt  it  near  him,  yet  hidden  by 
an  undergrowth  and  overgrowth.  "Money  has 
a  great  deal  to  answer  for,"  he  said  to  himself  one 
day,  half  cynically;  and  gradually  this  idea  took 
hold  of  him.  But  it  was  the  manner  in  which 
other  people  used  it  that  surprised  him;  with  his 
own  he  dealt  as  a  thing  of  no  particular  interest. 
He  spent  or  gave  easily,  and  without  much  con- 
sideration, and  worried  himself  not  at  all.  It  never 
occurred  to  him  to  measure  the  result,  till  a  long 
interview  with  his  bankers  took  him  by  surprise 
and  left  him  puzzled  but  not  anxious,  on  the  con- 
trary, rather  amused. 

It  was  Lant  who  found  the  house  in  Princes 
Gate — the  day  before  he  sailed  for  Australia. 
Wendern  refused  to  consider  it;  he  was  tired  of 
London,  and  wanted  to  go  to  a  desert. 

"  But  the  offices  of  the  Bangor  Estates  Syndicate 
are  in  Great  St.  Helen's,  not  in  a  desert,  and  you 
are  the  Managing  Director,"  Lant  responded 
blandly.  "In  a  year  or  two,  when  many  fortunes 
have  been  made,  you  can  go  where  you  please. 
Meanwhile,  I'm  afraid  you  must  occasionally  be 
on  the  spot." 

23 


George  Wendern 

"I  hate  the  accursed  rows  of  houses  in  London," 
Wendern  answered.  "I  hanker  for  a  tent  in  the 
middle  of  a  green  space. " 

"My  dear  chap,  I  know  what  you  mean,  and 
the  house  that  I  have  seen  is  exactly  what  you 
want.  You  will  look  on  the  Park  from  the  front 
windows;  at  the  back  there  is  a  large  and  enclosed 
garden  reserved  for  the  benefit  of  the  tenants. 
The  people  in  the  other  houses  are  usually  oc- 
cupied in  ministering  or  preparing  to  minister  to 
their  vanities,  so  you  will  have  the  green  space  you 
long  for  to  yourself.  The  house  is  admirably 
furnished:  the  amiable  couple  who  did  it  have  just 
been  divorced,  and  you  can  buy  the  whole  thing 
cheaply.  The  servants  you  can  take  on.  The 
stabling  is  excellent,  a  garage  has  been  added — in 
fact,  everything  is  there.  And  London  is  at  your 
feet;  take  my  advice,  don't  kick  it  away  even  with 
the  softest  slipper.  You  can  entertain  or  not,  as 
you  please,  at  Princes  Gate,  and  the  address  will 
sound  admirable  to  the  discriminating  members 
of  the  Syndicate;  and  it  will  prove  that  you  are 
a  resident  and  not  a  bird  of  passage.  I'm  not  sure 
that  it's  well  to  stay  too  long  at  hotels — especially 
at  hotels  of  a  particular  sort.  Next  time  I  come 
to  London  I  shall  take  a  house  for  the  season.  I 
am  always  afraid  of  being  called  a  speculator. " 

"But  you  are  one,"  Wendern  said  absently. 
24 


Gave  a  Party 

"Oh  no,  dear  chappie,  that's  unfair.  I  am  a 
benefactor  discovering  the  unknown  portions  of 
the  earth  and  insisting  that  they  shall  yield  their 
produce,  or  develop  their  possibilities,  for  the 
benefit  of  men.  It  sounds  almost  scriptural, 
doesn't  it?  I  frequently  read  the  Scriptures — a 
fine  work,  full  of  picturesque  passages:  some  of 
them  would  look  so  well  on  a  prospectus. " 

"You  are  a  humorous  blasphemer." 

"Not  at  all,  sonnie,  not  at  all."  Lant's  tone 
was  almost  affectionate;  for  no  matter  what  his 
faults  might  be,  he  had  a  liking  for  Wendern, 
and  he  knew,  and  had  even  a  respect  for,  the 
qualities  that  went  to  the  making  of  his  character. 
"Talking  of  speculators,  did  you  ever  notice  that 
the  big  birds,  vultures  let  us  call  them,  and  the 
big  fishes,  sharks,  let  us  say,  make  it  their  business 
to  stay  at  one  of  five  hotels  in  London  ?  When 
they  are  there,  you  may  conclude  that  they  deal  in 
millions;  if  you  nibble  at  the  bait,  you  know  that 
the  stakes  are  worth  considering.  This  is  why, 
next  time  I  come,  I  shall  avoid  those  luxurious 
haunts.  If  I  stay  at  any  hotel  it  will  be  one  of  the 
quieter  places! — some  haunt  of  the  county  mag- 
nates, the  well-dowered  spinsters,  and  dowagers 
whose  husbands  knew  that  generosity  is  a  supreme 
virtue  in  the  eyes  of  women." 

"Now  and  then  it  has  crossed  my  mind  that 
25 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

you  are  a  scoundrel,  Lant. "  Wendern's  voice  pre- 
vented his  words  from  being  offensive. 

"So  unkind  of  you."  The  manner  was  still 
soft  and  pleasant.  "By  the  way,  is  it  true  that 
there  is  to  be  a  lawsuit  about  the  Derryford 
Docks?" 

"I  heard  something  about  it." 

"It  will  interest  you  to  the  extent  of  a  good 
many  thousands — if  you  allow  it  to  come  to  one?" 

"Yes;  and  I  shall,  if  it  is  necessary.  They  have 
behaved  scandalously." 

"Still,  I  would  overlook  it  if  possible.  In  a 
lawsuit  both  sides  usually  get  the  worst  of  it;  it 
would  be  a  pity  if  the  thousands  fell  into  the  gap 
between."  Lant  had  a  righteous  horror  of  all 
legal  proceedings:  he  thought  they  proved  that 
one  of  the  parties  concerned  had  shown  a  lamen- 
table lack  of  the  art  of  propitiation,  and  the  other 
of  an  equable  temper. 

"It  wouldn't  matter,"  Wendern  said  with  a 
shrug.  "There  are  things  one  has  to  do;  the  cost 
is  counted  later." 


26 


CHAPTER  III 

T7V3R  nearly  two  years  Wendern  lived  at  Princes 
-1-  Gate  quietly  and  apparently  content.  He  saw 
few  and  fewer  people;  he  appeared  to  be  thinking 
out  some  problem  that  gradually  presented  it- 
self out  of  the  mists  and  silences  that  gathered 
round  him.  Beyond  them  a  sense  of  develop- 
ments sometimes  dreamily  haunted  him,  but  he 
was  neither  curious  nor  impatient;  they  would 
come  as  surely  as  the  soft-footed  days  of  the  years 
he  had  to  live,  and  he  was  content  to  wait. 

The  Bangor  Estates  Syndicate  provided  him 
with  a  certain  amount  of  excitement.  The  statu- 
tory meeting  at  the  end  of  the  first  year  being 
highly  satisfactory,  and  the  accounts  from  Lant 
extravagantly  good,  the  shareholders  were  reck- 
less and  exhilarated.  Then  there  had  been  a  some- 
what sudden  drop,  a  gradual  reaction,  a  sense  of 
things  not  going  so  well,  which  annoyed  him;  but 
he  shook  off  his  vexation,  all  things  had  their 
ebb  and  flow,  he  thought;  it  was  the  inevitable 
law.  The  ebb  seemed  to  prolong  itself,  there  was 
no  violent  slump,  but  a  gradual  slackening;  and 
the  time  came  when  uneasiness  rather  than  annoy- 
ance oppressed  him.  Threatenings,  too,  of  an  un- 
pleasant sort  seemed  to  be  in  the  air. 


George  Wendern 

The  developments  began  when  he  least  sus- 
pected it,  and  in  more  than  one  direction.  Lord 
Derbyshire,  a  fair-haired  young  man,  a  bit  of  a 
fool,  but  harmless,  whom  Lant  had  used  freely  for 
Syndicate  purposes,  dropped  in  one  morning. 

"I  say,  I  want  you  to  come  and  dine  at  Cla- 
ridge's  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "I  have  persuaded 
my  uncle,  old  Lord  Kenton,  you  know,  to  let  me 
give  a  party  there — awful  lark;  he'll  pay  the  bill 
and  all  that.  He  is  getting  old  and  afraid  of 
mortifying  before  his  son  gets  married — son 
doesn't  want  to  marry.  He's  the  only  son,  and 
uncle  Kentie  thinks  he  ought.  Told  him  I'd  in- 
vite that  American  girl,  Katherine  Fiffer, — ever 
hear  of  her?" 

Wendern  shook  his  head. 

"Awfully  nice  girl,  carries  her  head  as  if  she 
thought  a  lot  of  it;  she  and  her  mother  are  staying 
at  the  Ritz,  they  talk  of  settling  in  London;  got 
money  to  spend,  cartloads  of  it.  Uncle  Kentie 
thinks  it  ought  to  be  kept  in  the  country,  some 
one  ought  to  marry  her;  he's  too  old  to  do  it  him- 
self, and  Malcolm — son,  you  know — doesn't  like 
women,  prefers  motors,  lives  in  a  garage.  Rather 
think  he  wants  me  to  take  her  on,  but  I  don't 
expect  she'd  rise  to  that. " 

"Probably  there  won't  be  much  difficulty  in 
finding  some  one  else. " 

28 


Gave  a  Party 

"Daresay    not.     Loads  of  cash,  you  know. " 

"I'm  beginning  to  see,"  Wendern  said  slowly, 
"that  there's  just  one  great  power  left  in  England, 
and  every  one  is  trying  to  grab  it." 

"  What  is  it  ?     Might  give  me  the  tip. " 

"Money." 

"Awful  bore  not  having  it." 

"It  has  never  troubled  me  much." 

"Wait  till  it's  gone,  then  it  will.  Seems  to 
make  itself  into  a  sort  of  ghost  you  can't  lay  hold 
of,  comes  and  worries  you  last  thing  at  night  and 
in  the  small  hours  of  the  morning;  tells  you  you've 
been  an  ass,  and  has  a  nasty  nagging  way.  You 
see,  money  isn't  any  good  unless  you  spend  it,  and 
when  you  do,  you  haven't  got  it  any  longer." 
The  fatuous  face  looked  anxious. 

The  poor  chap  couldn't  help  being  an  idiot, 
Wendern  thought.  "I  didn't  know  you  were 
worried  about  this  sort  of  thing,"  he  said;  "the 
right  use  of  money  will  be  the  world's  next  prob- 
lem." 

"Daresay;  but  problems  are  an  awful  nuisance. 
One  sort  worries  you  when  you're  at  school,  an- 
other sort  puts  you  in  the  divorce  court — think  it's 
best  to  keep  clear  of  them  myself.  Wonder  what 
you'll  say  to  Miss  Fiffer?" 

"Are  you  in  love  with  her?" 

"No.  She's  a  fine  girl,  of  course,  but  I  like  'em 
29 


George  Wendern 

more  lively — the  sort  you  see  on  the  stage;  there's 
an  awfully  fetching  one  at  the  Prince's;  I  happen 
to  know  her  a  little. " 

"Does  that  mean  a  good  deal?" 

"It  would  if  I  could  raise  some  cash — if  that 
Syndicate  of  Lant's  would  jump  up  now.  It 
doesn't  matter  what  else  you've  got,  if  you  haven't 
ready  money  it's  the  deuce.  I  wish  you  would 
put  me  in  the  way  of  a  thousand  or  two. " 

Wendern  shook  his  head.  "Not  to  go  that 
journey.  Look  here,  you're  a  big  land-owner:  I 
have  been  thinking  that  there  must  be  work  cut 
out  for  all  of  us " 

"Oh,  I  say,  if  you're  going  to  think  again,  I'm 
off — thinking  is  just  about  the  worst  thing  you 
can  do  if  you  want  to  enjoy  yourself,  assure  you  it 
is,  and  if  you  don't  enjoy  yourself,  what's  the  good 
of  anything?  Besides,  my  lot — the  land  I  mean — 
is  pretty  rotten.  Everything  on  it  nearly  lying  full 
length  because  it  can't  stand  up  any  longer,  and 
not  another  mortgagee  will  even  look  round  it." 

At  ten  minutes  past  eight  the  next  evening 
Wendern  stood  in  a  group  that  had  gathered  for 
the  dinner-party  in  one  of  the  larger  rooms  at 
Claridge's.  He  turned  his  head  towards  the  door 
as  Katherine  Fiffer  entered.  She  was  slim  and 
tall,  brown-haired,  grey-eyed  and  dreamy-looking; 

30 


Gave  a  Party 

her  mouth  was  grave  and  sweet,  yet  almost  roguish 
when  she  smiled,  and  she  carried  herself  like  a 
princess  in  a  fairy  tale.  He  seldom  noticed 
women,  or  rather  he  always  noticed  them,  and 
forgot  them  an  hour  after  they  had  vanished; 
but  her  face  haunted  him  from  the  first  moment; 
she  drew  him  to  her,  held  him  and  filled  his  life, 
not  insistently  so  much  as  unceasingly,  standing 
out  in  his  thoughts  as  the  one  woman  in  the  world. 
He  bent  forward  a  little  as  if  he  had  been  waiting 
when  she  passed  him  after  shaking  hands  with  her 
host,  then  drew  back,  remembering  they  had  never 
spoken,  for,  though  he  was  dreamily  wonderstruck 
at  meeting  her,  he  had  no  sense  of  their  being 
strangers.  He  felt  as  if  a  curtain  had  been  drawn 
aside,  a  misty  veil  lifted,  and  in  the  moment  before 
it  dropped  again  whole  distances  seemed  to  spread 
out  behind  and  before  him;  a  hundred  different 
thoughts  chased  themselves  vaguely  through  his 
brain;  and  the  sum  of  it  all  was  that  he  had  seen 
the  woman  he  would  love,  who  would  be  his  wife; 
and  the  future  was  no  longer  a  mystery  to  him : 
only  the  precise  manner  in  which  it  would  shape 
itself,  and  whether  its  freight  was  joy  or  sorrow, 
was  hidden. 

"I  think  she's  just  about  the  most  rippin'  girl 
I  ever  met — I  mean,  for  a  girl  who  isn't  lively," 
Derbyshire  said  to  him  later. 

31 


George  Wendern 

"She's  not  a  girl,  she's  a  woman."  Wendern 
seemed  to  be  speaking  to  himself  rather  than  to 
his  companion. 

"Oh,  I  say" — Derbyshire  looked  almost  dis- 
concerted, for  to  him  girlhood  was  everything,  "I 
shouldn't  think  she  was  more  than  four-and- 
twenty;  that  isn't  too  far  on,  is  it?" 

"Too  far  on?  Age  isn't  counted  by  years: 
there  are  children  who  are  women  and  have  never 
been  young;  and  women  who  are  children,  and 
will  carry  youth  about  with  them  as  long  as  they 
live." 

"Awfully  lucky  for  them,  you  know;  wonder 
what  the  dodge  is?" 

"It's  doing  or  thinking  that  turns  mere  con- 
sciousness into  living,  and  lights  up  the  years  or 
darkens  them.  I've  been  learning  that  lesson 
during  the  last  year." 

"Thinking  is  all  nonsense,  I've  told  you  that 
already,  it  only  worries  you. " 

"It's  the  root  in  the  ground." 

"I  get  along  all  right  without  it,  do  just  what 
comes  into  my  head;  flowers  that  bloom  in  the 
spring  haven't  much  root  but  they've  a  gay 
time."  Derbyshire  felt  that  he  was  being  witty. 

"And  the  other  way  uses  you  up.  The  worst  of 
it  is  that  things  come  hurrying  after  you  some- 
times, and  won't  be  shunted." 

32 


Gave  a  Party 

Derbyshire  was  puzzled  again.  "I  never  know 
whether  you  are  talking  rot  or  awfully  good  stuff," 
he  said. 

"Neither  do  I,"  there  was  a  smile  in  Wendern's 
eye.  "I  say  what  I  feel,  and  let  the  rest  settle 
itself." 

He  sat  next  to  Mrs.  Fiffer  at  dinner.  A  some- 
what sharp-eyed  woman  with  a  thin  face,  a  kindly 
smile,  quick  and  eager,  who  looked  as  if  she  re- 
membered many  vicissitudes  in  life  and  had  fought 
them  bravely.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  was  a  little 
uneasy  with  her  wealth  and  not  altogether  at  home 
in  her  finery;  but  she  went  on,  interested  and  de- 
termined to  grapple  with  the  new  difficulties  just 
as  she  had  done  with  the  old,  bringing  the  same 
qualities  to  bear  upon  them.  She  told  Wendern 
that  she  was  a  widow,  with  only  Katherine,  and 
no  relations  to  look  after  them.  They  meant  to 
settle  down  in  England  for  a  few  months,  perhaps 
altogether;  she  didn't  know  yet.  It  depended 
a  good  deal  on  whether  they  could  find  a  house 
that  would  do;  anyway  she  thought  English  peo- 
ple were  quite  charming,  and  they  were  so  kind. 
Now,  where  would  he  advise  her  to  look  for  a 
house  ? 

"You  can  have  mine,  I'm  tired  of  it." 

"Why,  how  long  have  you  had  it?" 

"Two  years." 

33 


George  Wendern 

"Don't  you  like  it?" 

"I  never  thought  as  to  whether  I  did  or 
didn't,  but  I  wasn't  made  for  houses.  They 
usually  have  rooms  with  four  walls  and  ceilings 
roofing  them  in " 

"Why?" — she  looked  up  at  him  in  wonder; 
there  was  a  far-off  look  in  his  eyes  that  made  her 
think  of  wide  spaces  and  the  great  simplicities 
among  which  the  early  years  of  her  life  had  been 
spent, — "you  can't  have  houses  without  rooms?" 

"And  then  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  the 
servants. " 

"Well,  with  us,"  said  Mrs.  Fiffer — she  spoke 
with  a  strong  American  accent — "they're  just  the 
biggest  handful  we've  got,  and  I'm  told  they're 
a  worry  over  here  too.  How  is  it?" 

"There's  nothing  the  matter  with  them  funda- 
mentally, but  I  never  know  where  they  are  or  what 
to  say  to  them,  and  I  get  tired  of  looking  at  furni- 
ture." 

"Now,  that's  a  funny  thing  to  say.  I  expect 
your  things  are  lovely?" 

"There's  nothing  the  matter  with  the  things, 
except  that  they're  there;  nor  with  the  house  it- 
self, except  that  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  it. 
It  is  always  standing  in  the  same  place,  you  see." 

"Who  lives  with  you?" 

"No  one." 

34 


Gave  a  Party 

"Never  been  married?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Well,  I'd  get  some  relations  round  me." 

"I  haven't  any." 

"Then  why  in  the  world  did  you  take  a  big 
house  in  Princes  Gate?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I  should  beat  my 
head  against  the  walls  of  a  small  one.  I'm  used 
to  prairies — but  there  are  none  in  England,  and 
too  many  people  in  London. " 

She  was  quite  pleased.  "That's  just  what  I 
feel  about  New  York,  Mr.  Wendern.  It's  all  over 
people,  and  the  way  they  hustle,  why  you'd  think 
every  one  of  them  was  going  to  die  in  about  eigh- 
teen months'  time,  and  had  to  hurry  all  he  could 
into  the  bit  of  life  that's  left. " 

Then,  with  what  seemed  like  a  little  gust  of 
affection  for  her  country,  she  added,  "But  it 
keeps  a  sky  over  their  heads  all  the  time,  so  that 
they  can  see  their  way  about,  and  a  blue  one  too, 
even  in  winter,  when  the  wind  is  sticking  knives 
into  you  round  Flatiron  Corner." 

After  dinner  she  told  Katherine  of  her  conversa- 
tion with  Wendern.  "He  ought  to  hear  what  you 
think  of  England,"  she  said  as  he  went  up  to  them. 
They  were  standing  near  the  doorway,  watching 
some  arrivals  at  the  belated  evening  party  that 
was  to  follow  the  feast.  Mrs.  Fiffer  liked  looking 

35 


George  Wendern 

at  them  and  thinking  that  they  were  second  best 
to  herself,  who  had  been  thought  worthy  to  sit  at 
the  table;  they  were  only  given  the  crumbs  from 
it  in  the  shape  of  odds  and  ends  collected  on  a 
buffet. 

"England?"  the  girl  said.  "I  think  it's  like 
no  other  place  in  the  world,  that  God  tried  His 
'prentice  hand  on  it  when  He  wanted  to  make 
heaven. " 

"That's  an  idea,"  he  said  slowly.  "But  Amer- 
ica was  discovered  a  good  deal  later,"  he  added 
with  a  whimsical  smile,  "and  the  'prentice  doesn't 
do  the  best  work. " 

"I  love  its  little  green  fields  and  its  fenced-in 
gardens  and  beautiful  ways.  Best  of  all,"  she 
went  on  as  if  she  had  not  heard  him,  "I  think 
I  love  its  old  country-houses  and  the  legends 
they've  got  about  them.  Why,  Mr.  Wendern, 
England  is  hundreds  of  romances  and  living 
pictures — doesn't  that  strike  you?" 

"I  never  looked  at  it  from  that  point  of  view." 

"I  love  its  age  so,  and  all  the  places  that  are  fall- 
ing to  pieces — did  you  never  realise  the  music  there 
is  in  the  word  medieval?" 

"I  don't  think  I  ever  did." 

"Well,  probably  you  never  had  occasion  to  use 
it  in  your  country  any  more  than  they  had  in  mine, 
so  didn't  worry  about  it;  but  I've  always  longed 

36 


Gave  a  Party 

to  see  what  it  meant;  it  conjures  up  visions  of 
knights  in  armour,  and  battlements,  and  stained- 
glass  windows,  and  swords  put  in  patterns  on  walls, 
clanging  gates  and  drawbridges,  and  beautiful 
ladies  riding  forth  on — didn't  they  call  them 
palfreys  ? — and  troubadours  and  Saxons  and 
Danes "  . 

"You've  been  reading  poetry,  Miss  Fiffer — 
'Saxon  and  Norman  and  Dane  are  we' 

"It's  Tennyson,  of  course,"  the  joy  in  her  smile 
chased  the  dreamy  expression  away — "there's 
another  English  thing — poetry,  England  is  full  of 
it;  the  poetry  that  is  just  the  voice  of  its  traditions 
speaking  down  whole  centuries.  Hundreds  of 
years  hence  I  suppose  we  shall  have  our  traditions; 
we  are  doing  our  best,  we  are  making  them,  and 
our  literature  and  poetry,  but  they  will  be  differ- 
ent, for  the  picturesque  age  is  over  in  England  too, 
and  we  shall  never  have  the  ruins  of  one  as  she 
has.  That's  why  we  love  her  so — for  what  she 
has  been  even  more  than  for  what  she  is;  just  as 
she  loves  Greece  and  Rome;  they  had  their  turn 
first.  It's  wonderful  how  things  are  dealt  out 
all  round — but  some  are  not  picturesque. " 

"They  were,  before  any  country  had  its  turn, 
or  traditions  were  invented." 

"But  it's  the  traditions  that  make  England  so 
wonderful,"  she  persisted,  "they  haunt  me — I 
love  them. " 

37 


George  Wendern 

"I  expect  she  didn't  remember  she  was  making 
a  quotation  at  first,"  Mrs.  FifFer  said,  by  way  of 
an  apology,  when  Katherine  had  crossed  to  the 
other  side  of  the  room.  "You  see  she's  not  col- 
lege reared,  as  most  American  girls  are  now.  I 
don't  hold  with  the  plan  myself,  and  would  never 
let  her  go.  She's  had  to  find  herself  as  I  did;  but 
she's  had  more  books  to  do  it  with,  and  seen  more, 
ten  times  more,  than  I'd  done  at  her  age,  and  what 
she's  not  got  in  knowledge,  Mr.  Wendern,  she's 
got  in  high  spirit — she  knows  how  she  wants  to 
live  and  what  she  wants  to  have  and  do.  I'm  so 
struck  with  her  sometimes — but  I  sit  and  say  noth- 
ing, and  wonder  what  it'll  all  come  to." 

"She's  beautiful,"  Wendern  said,  surprised  at 
this  sudden  burst  of  confidence.  He  moved  for- 
ward a  chair;  she  took  it  gratefully. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  think  that — I  think  it  my- 
self, but  mothers  are  often  just  foolish.  Anyway, 
they  seem  to  be  taking  to  her  over  here,  and  the 
way  people  send  invitations — "  She  turned  to 
listen  to  the  wiles  of  a  dowager  who  had  eligible  sons 
and  had  heard  that  the  American  woman  was  rich. 

"That's  a  handsome  girl,"  Sir  Charles  Pierce 
said  to  Wendern  as  they  stood  together  watching 
the  room. 

"She  looks  as  if  Nature  still  held  her  unadul- 
terated; and  she  walks  as  if  she  remembered  the 

backwoods : " 

38 


Gave  a  Party 

"Not  much  backwoods  about  her,"  Sir  Charles 
answered.  "I  should  call  it  New  York  or  Chicago 
— out  of  which  her  father  collected  a  few  million 
dollars  which  were  put  to  her  account  when  he 
went  to  the  next  world." 

"That's  against  her — 

The  other  man  covered  his  density  with,  "The 
mother's  rather  a  corker,  isn't  she?" 

"Not  bad;  she  looks  as  if  she'd  been  used  to 
simpler  things  than  she  has  now — it's  to  her  credit 
that  she  doesn't  forget  them."  He  went  back  to 
her  presently.  He  liked  the  freshness  of  her,  the 
suggestion  that  the  wiles  of  New  York  and  Lon- 
don had  surprised  but  not  overwhelmed  her. 
"I've  been  wondering,"  he  said,  "whether,  if  you 
are  free,  it  would  be  possible  to  persuade  you  and 
Miss  Fiffer  to  lunch  with  me  to-morrow  at  Princes 
Gate?" 

"Why,  I'd  be  delighted,  but  I  think  Lord  Derby- 
shire said  he  was  coming  to  us,  and  I  wouldn't  like 
to  throw  him  over,  for  he's  doing  his  very  best  to 
make  us  enjoy  this  country." 

"I'll  ask  him,  too,  if  you  like?" 

"Well  now  that  is  kind,  and  then  we  would  see 
the  inside  of  your  house.  You  said  we  might  take 
it  off  you;  but  I  wouldn't  like  to  drive  you  away. " 

"There's  one  to  let  round  the  corner,  that  is  to 
say  at  right  angles  to  mine — virtually  a  few  doors 
off- 

39 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

"We'd  be  neighbours." 

"If  I  stayed " 

"You'd  have  to  stay  if  we  came." 

He  looked  across  at  Katherine.  "I  will,"  he 
answered. 

The  next  morning,  the  day  the  Fiffers  were  com- 
ing to  luncheon,  he  realised,  as  he  often  had  done 
lately,  that  household  matters  bored  him.  "I 
must  get  some  one  to  look  after  them,"  he  thought; 
"it's  a  woman's  work  to  consider  what  one  will 
eat  and  what  flowers  shall  be  put  on  the  table." 
He  took  up  the  "Times"  and  his  eye  caught  an 
advertisement,  "'A  young  widow,  thirty-two' — 
Humph,  rather  young,  perhaps  she's  older — 
women  always  lie  about  their  ages — 'wishes  to  find 
a  post  as  lady-housekeeper  to  a  gentleman  of  posi- 
tion ' — well,  I  don't  know  about  the  position,  but  it 
might  be  as  well  to  see  what  her  views  are. "  He 
sat  down  and  wrote  to  her. 


40 


CHAPTER  IV 

MRS.  BERWICK  was  sorely  perplexed;  she 
knew  as  little  about  Wendern,  after  four 
months,  as  she  had  done  in  the  first  week,  except 
for  the  fact,  gradually  grasped,  that  money  was 
not  forthcoming  from  him.  He  never  seemed  to 
think  about  it.  The  attributes  of  wealth  were 
about  her,  but  actual  money  she  never  saw.  She 
knew  there  were  many  unpaid  bills,  that  even  tax- 
gatherers  were  sent  empty  away,  and  the  rent  of 
the  house  was  accumulating;  yet  though  he  never 
for  a  moment  struck  her  as  being  an  adventurer, 
nor  dishonourable,  Wendern  was  quite  uncon- 
cerned. Sometimes  a  shade  of  anxiety  seemed  to 
pass  over  him,  but  that  was  all.  He  was  kind  and 
considerate  to  those  about  him;  he  had  always  a 
reserved  and  detached  sympathy  for  pain  or  trou- 
ble brought  to  his  notice;  but  there  seemed  to  be 
an  impalpable  fence  round  him  that  kept  would-be 
intruders  at  a  mental  distance. 

"If  I  could  get  hold  of  that  Mr.  Parker,"  she 
thought  again  one  morning  a  week  after  Mrs. 
Rigg's  visit,  "why  I  might  know  something."  She 
pushed  aside  the  tradesmen's  books  and  the  little 

41 


George  Wendern 

white  china  slate  she  had  made  ready  for  the  cook, 
and  putting  her  elbows  on  the  table,  rested  her 
chin  in  her  hands  while  she  tried  to  solve  the  rid- 
dle of  the  situation.  But  it  was  useless,  only  go- 
ing up  and  down  a  cul-de-sac.  "There  is  nothing 
to  do  but  wait,"  she  told  herself.  "It  is  wonder- 
ful how  many  things  smooth  themselves  out  just 
by  waiting — still  I,  for  one,  simply  must  have 
some  money  soon." 

Rogers  entered.  She  looked  up  irritably:  these 
incidents  of  the  morning  were  getting  on  her 
nerves.  "Oh,  what  is  it?" 

"A  man  has  come  with  a  waggon-load  of 
orange-trees,  ma'am.  Mr.  Wendern  ordered  them 
yesterday  for  the  conservatory  and  balconies. " 

"Good  heavens!"  She  was  thrown  off  her 
guard,  a  dazed  smile  spread  over  her  face.  "A 
waggon-load  of  orange-trees " 

"He  was  told  most  of  them  were  to  go  in  the 
dining-room. " 

"Have  them  put  there.  I'll  come  and  look  at 
them  presently."  In  the  dining-room  were  two 
wide  windows  with  a  glass  door  between  that 
opened,  as  the  French  window  in  the  morning- 
room  did,  on  to  the  little  private  garden,  and  out 
to  the  lawn  beyond.  A  cleverly  managed  mass 
of  greenery  had  given  that  end  of  the  dining-room 
the  appearance  of  a  conservatory,  almost  of  a 

42 


Gave  a  Party 

wood.  It  made  the  light  soft  and  gave  the  room 
a  curious  air  of  charm  and  isolation.  The  house 
had  been  reconstructed  inside  by  a  previous  tenant, 
and  was  the  only  one  that  had  the  whole  width  at 
the  back  so  arranged  that  it  opened  on  to  the 
garden. 

Rogers  went  on:  "And  Mr.  Joe  Parker  is  here. " 

She  gave  a  gasp  of  relief.  How  lucky  that  he 
should  come  now  while  Wendern  was  out  of  the 
way.  "Oh,  ask  him  to  come  in;  I  hope  you 
haven't  kept  him  waiting  in  the  hall?" 

"He's  brushing  himself  down — he  says  he's  a 
bit  dusty." 

A  moment  later  "the  backwoodsman"  appeared. 
His  face  lighted  up  at  seeing  her;  he  pulled  himself 
together  with  an  air  of  remembering  that  he  had 
just  brushed  his  coat;  a  smart  little  woman,  he 
had  called  her  to  himself  on  his  last  visit,  he  was 
glad  to  see  her  again  and  alone,  "though  it  makes 
one  a  bit  nervous,"  he  thought. 

"Good  morning,  marm;  I  hope  I  see  you  quite 
well?" 

She  looked  up  eager  and  anxious.  "How  do 
you  do?  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  then  added 
discreetly,  as  became  a  lady-housekeeper,  "Mr. 
Wendern  will  be  here  directly;  he  has  been  expect- 
ing you,  I  know." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  he  isn't  down  yet?" 
43 


George  Wendern 

"Oh  yes,  of  course  he's  down;  he  generally 
rides  before  breakfast.  Now,  I  think,  he  is  in  the 
garden,"  she  went  halfway  to  the  window  and 
looked  out. 

He  caught  the  cut  of  her  dress  sideways,  she 
had  a  neat  little  figure,  he  thought.  "Well,  I'm 
not  in  a  hurry,  delighted  meanwhile  to  have  your 
company. " 

"I  fear  you  had  so  little  time  with  your  friend 
the  other  day."  She  went  back  to  her  place  by 
the  table  and  began  her  quest,  but  she  felt  that 
it  had  to  be  done  with  discretion. 

"Not  much,  marm,  not  much;  get  more  now 
perhaps." 

"Oh,  do  sit  down,"  he  was  still  standing,  "he 
is  certain  to  be  here  directly.  How  strange  it 
must  be  for  you  two  from  a  great  country  to  meet 
in  this  little  island?" 

Mr.  Parker  looked  at  the  chair,  shook  it,  and 
cautiously  seated  himself.  "Not  unpleasant, 
marm,  I  can  assure  you.  And  if  England  is  little, 
why  it  does  its  best  to  make  up  for  it." 

"Yes?" 

"It  owns  several  pretty  considerable  bits  of  land 
in  various  parts,"  he  explained. 

"  But  out  there  in  Melbourne — it  is  beyond  Mel- 
bourne, is  it  not? — you  must  feel  so  different,  so 
free,  such  makers  of  the  world." 

44 


Gave  a  Party 

"I  don't  know  that  we  make  anything.  Frozen 
cattle,  canned  goods,  and  wool  are  the  main  prod- 
ucts. Now  and  then  a  gold  mine  turns  up;  we 
wish  it  did  a  little  oftener,  and  that  it  wasn't  just 
a  pocket,  as  it  often  is,  and  soon  emptied. " 

"Do  tell  me  about  Mr.  Wendern's  estate?  It 
is  enormous,  is  it  not?" 

"Well " 

"What  does  it  chiefly  produce?" 

"Wendern's?  Well,  he  could  tell  you  that  bet- 
ter than  I."  There  was  amusement  in  his  voice, 
he  gave  an  inward  wink  with  his  off  eye.  "The 
little  woman's  trying  to  draw  me,"  he  thought; 
"I  don't  think  she'll  get  much  to  go  on  with." 
But  he  rather  liked  her  for  it;  quick  wit  appealed 
to  him,  especially  in  her  sex.  "You  see,  as  a  rule, 
a  man  is  usually  most  interested  in  his  own  stock." 

"And  are  you  a  millionaire  too?"  Her  voice 
was  full  of  inquiring  innocence. 

"A  millionaire  too,'"  he  chuckled,  "no,  marm, 
I'm  not.  I  represent  wool  and  a  failure.  A  good 
deal  of  Australia  did  that  at  one  time,  lately  it's 
picked  up  a  bit.  This  last  year  or  two  I  have  been 
in  South  Africa,  or  I  should  be  poorer  than  I  am; 
but  I  came  to  England  round  by  Melbourne  for 
all  that.  Now  tell  me  about  Wendern,  do  all  the 
women  fall  in  love  with  him  over  here  too  ? " 

"Yes,  indeed.     I  don't  wonder,"  she  gave  a 

45 


George  Wendern 

little  sigh;  "you  Australians  are  terribly  fascinat- 
ing." 

"Well,  so  are  you  English  women."  He  got 
up  and  looked  towards  the  window.  "Who  are 
those  people  walking  about  there  ?  Isn't  that  his 
garden?" 

Mrs.  Berwick  explained  that  the  lawn  beyond 
the  little  fence  was  for  the  use  of  the  tenants  in 
general. 

"There's  a  smart-looking  girl,  there  on  the  right, 
walking  about  with  a  woman  in  blue,  her  mother 
perhaps.  Why,  he's  with  them — "  he  started 
forward,  then  checked  himself.  "  Know  who  they 
are,  marm?" 

Mrs.  Berwick  tried  to  hide  her  impatience, 
"Mrs.  Fiffer  and  her  daughter — the  great  Ameri- 
can heiress." 

"A  well-built  girl  and  walks  as  if  she  knew  how. 
I  expect  she's  in  love  with  him?" 

"I  don't  know,  Mr.  Parker, — perhaps  she  is." 

"Well,  I  expect  he  isn't  in  love  with  her.  Some 
men  run  after  women,  and  some  men  are  run 
after.  George  was  always  run  after." 

"I  don't  wonder. " 

"He's  a  good  chap,  Mrs.  Berwick,  and  not 
afraid  of  anything,  God,  man,  or  devil;  would 
look  on  at  the  burning  of  his  own  soul,  or  the  elope- 
ment of  his  wife  with  a  nigger,  without  turning  a 

46 


Gave  a  Party 

hair.  Done  himself  a  few  bad  turns  and  never 
flinched,  done  lots  of  people  good  turns  and  for- 
gotten them  the  next  minute.  He  and  I  have 
known  each  other  these  twenty  years  and  been  the 
better  for  it.  Here  he  comes — with  the  women 
tacked  on  to  him." 

Wendern  sauntered  towards  the  window  with 
his  companions,  he  hurried  into  the  room  when  he 
saw  Parker. 

"Joe!"  he  exclaimed,  and  grasped  his  hand, 
"this  is  good."  The  two  men  looked  at  each 
other  for  a  moment,  then  Wendern  turned  to  Mrs. 
Berwick.  "Mrs.  Fiffer  and  her  daughter  have 
come  to  wish  you  good-morning." 

They  had  stood  outside  as  if  waiting  to  be 
invited  to  enter.  Mrs.  Fiffer,  matronly,  good- 
natured,  and,  as  usual,  conscious  of  her  expensive 
clothes;  Katherine,  slender  and  grave,  in  a  white 
dress,  hatless,  with  a  red  parasol  shading  her  from 
the  sun. 

"Oh,  dear  Mrs.  Fiffer,  do  come  in;  how  nice  to 
see  you, "  Mrs.  Berwick  purred. 

"Sure  you  don't  object  to  early  visitors?" 

"Oh  no,  I  like  them." 

"Well,  it  proves  that  you  have  genuine  health 
and  a  real  complexion."  Mrs.  Fiffer  spoke  with 


conviction. 

M 


I  hope  I  have."    Mrs.  Berwick  put  on  her 
47 


George  Wendern 

bewildered  look;  she  had  tried  it  before  the  glass 
several  times.  "And  I  love  the  morning,  it  is  so 
fresh,  so  full  of  Nature.  How  do  you  do,  dear 
Miss  Fiffer?  What  a  beautiful  parasol." 

Joe  Parker  standing  aside  said  to  himself, 
"She  knows  the  game  uncommonly  well." 

"Is  it?"  Katherine  answered.     "I  love  red." 

"But  it's  the  colour  of  tragedy,  of  dreadful 
battles,"  Mrs.  Berwick  sighed. 

"I  didn't  think  of  that — for  I  haven't  met  any 
tragedy  yet,  or  been  far  off  enough  to  come  upon 
battles. " 

"And  yet  you  Americans  are  always  travelling. " 

"Well,  you've  such  a  lovely  country  to  live  in 
here,  I  don't  wonder  you  stay  at  home,"  Kath- 
erine's  face  lighted  up,  and  when  she  smiled  it  was 
beautiful.  "We've  been  talking  to  Mr.  Wendern. 
There  is  such  a  good  floor  in  his  drawing-room  we 
think  he  ought  to  give  a  dance. " 

"You  must  persuade  him, — he'll  do  anything 
for  you. " 

Wendern,  standing  near,  added  in  a  low  tone, 
"If  I'm  persuaded,"  then  louder,  "but  I  must 
introduce  my  friend  Joe  Parker  to  you. " 

Joe  Parker,  remembering  again  the  brushing 
of  his  coat  in  the  hall,  made  his  best  bow,  "  From 
Australia,  marm,  and  glad  to  make  your  acquaint- 
ance. " 

48 


Gave  a  Party 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Fiffer,  when  Katherine  had 
shaken  hands  and  turned  to  Wendern,  with  whom 
she  moved  slowly  a  little  aside,  "it  seems  to  me 
that  all  of  us  here  know  a  good  deal  about  long 
distances.'* 

"You're  from  America,  marm,  I  take  it — from 
New  York?" 

"You're  right,  Mr.  Parker.  J.  B.  Fiffer,  my 
late  husband,  was  pretty  well  known  there." 

Joe  Parker  considered  a  moment  before  he 
answered.  "He  was.  I  remember  him  twenty- 
five  years  ago  when  I  went  to  his  office  downtown 
before  he  moved  it  up  to  Fifth  Avenue,  and  had 
a  talk  with  him.  I  heard  a  good  deal  about  him 
later,  and  I  consider  myself  in  luck  meeting  you 
here  to-day." 

"Now,  isn't  that  nice  of  you,"  she  beamed,  and 
forgot  her  daughter  in  the  quick  talk  with  the 
Australian,  till  suddenly  she  turned  to  her  and 
asked,  "What's  he  saying  about  the  dance?" 

"We  have  not  discussed  it  yet,"  Katherine 
answered  with  a  little  start,  and  went  on  to  Wen- 
dern, "We  shall  be  at  Kenton  House  to-night.  I 
suppose  you  will,  too?" 

"I  didn't  mean  to  go;  I  will  if " 

"And  to-morrow  we  are  going  to  Brighton." 

Mrs.  Fiffer  heard  the  last  words  and  went  over 
to  them.  "  Friends  of  ours — the  Lough-Johnsons, 

49 


George  Wendern 

don't  know  if  you've  heard  of  them,  Mr.  Wen- 
dern?— are  at  the  Norfolk  Hotel  and  want  us  to  go 
down  to  them  for  a  week,  but  I'll  be  back  sooner. 
Katherine  will  stay  over  Sunday;  she  wants  to  go 
to  Rottingdean  and  see  the  house  Burne-Jones 
lived  in — and  Kipling,  wasn't  he  there?  It's  won- 
derful how  girls  care  for  people  who  are  talked 
about;  their  mothers  remember  the  world  long 
before  all  these  writing  people  and  picture  paint- 
ers were  in  it,  and  it  got  along  very  well. " 

"It  did,"  said  Parker,  "and  I  believe  that  we 
could  get  on  without  most  things  they  do.  George 
and  I  remember  thousands  of  miles  with  nothing 
on  them  but  what  sun  and  wind  and  rain  put  there. 
As  for  books  and  pictures,  and  all  you  think  so 
much  about  over  here,  we  never  set  eyes  on  them 
and  we  did  well  enough." 

"It  wouldn't  do  to  let  them  hear  you  say  it, 
Mr.  Parker,"  Mrs.  Fiffer  answered  triumphantly, 
"but  there  are  lots  of  things  here  we're  not  any 
better  for;  however,  we've  got  to  have  them,  so 
it's  no  good  making  a  fuss." 

It  was  strange  how  these  people  to  whom  mod- 
ern conditions  had  given  so  much  harked  back 
to  the  more  primitive  ones  in  which  they  had 
been  born. 

"Mr.  Wendern,"  she  went  on  turning  to  him, 
"Mrs.  Lough- Johnson  is  coming  to  stay  with  us 

SO 


Gave  a  Party 

the  week  after  next — I  would  like  you  to  meet  her; 
she's  one  of  my  oldest  friends." 

"I  shall  be  delighted,  and  should  have  been 
equally  so  if  she  had  been  one  of  your  youngest. " 

"Isn't  that  like  a  man,"  she  beamed;  "they're 
all  for  the  young  ones.  And  now,  Katherine,  I 
think  we'd  better  be  going  in;  Lord  Derbyshire 
said  he  would  be  at  our  house  by  twelve  o'clock. 
He's  a  delightful  young  man,"  she  informed 
Parker. 

"It  must  be  delightful  to  him  to  be  thought 
one,"  Wendern  said. 

"And  he  finds  reasons  to  take  him  to  our  house 
pretty  often."  Mrs.  Fiffer  put  significance  into 
her  voice. 

"I've  no  doubt." 

Katherine  moved  uneasily.  "He's  very  Eng- 
lish," she  said. 

"Very — and  a  good  fellow,"  Wendern  was 
speaking  again.  "May  I  walk  back  with  you?" 
He  threw  a  smile  at  his  friend.  . 

"You  may  go,  George,"  the  backwoodsman 
said  with  a  comprehending  nod. 

"If  Mr.  Parker  doesn't  mind  being  alone  a  few 
minutes  I  should  so  like  to  walk  back  with  Mrs. 
Fiffer,"  Mrs.  Berwick  chimed  in  adroitly.  "She 
promised  to  tell  me  about  the  Woolwich  ball." 
She  put  her  arm  through  the  elder  woman's  and 

Si 


George  Wendern 

walked  on,  cooing  as  they  went.  "Soldiers  are 
such  dear  brave  creatures,  fickle  and  badly-off, 
and,  oh!  so  fascinating! — "  Parker  heard  her  say; 
he  smiled  broadly  as  the  voices  died  away. 

"You  didn't  tell  me  you  were  going  to  Brigh- 
ton?" Wendern  said  to  Katherine  as  they  crossed 
the  lawn. 

"We  were  talking  of  other  things.  I  don't  want 
to  go  one  bit. " 

"Then  why  do  you?" 

They  stood  by  the  little  gate  that  went  into  the 
Fiffer  garden.  "I  don't  know,  I  have  to — "  She 
stopped  and  looked  up  at  a  sycamore-tree  that 
shaded  them.  "There  are  things  one  has  to  do, 
just  to  store  one's  memory;  it  would  be  a  desert 
if  one  didn't. " 

"When  are  you  coming  back?" 

"On  Tuesday  or  Wednesday."  She  hesitated 
again  before  she  added,  "Lord  Derbyshire  is 
going  to  motor  down  one  day. " 

"You  seem  to  have  adopted  that  young  man." 

"He  is  worried  about  his  property.  I  believe 
it  is  often  a  worry  in  England.  Old  houses  are 
very  beautiful,  but  they  fall  to  bits  and  need  a 
great  deal  of  money  to  keep  them  up. " 

"I  daresay."  The  subject  didn't  interest  him; 
he  was  thinking  of  something  else.  "Shall  I 

5* 


Gave  a  Party 

come  down  too? — not  the  same  day  as  Derby- 
shire," he  added.  "We  might  go  over  to  Rotting- 
dean  together?" 

Mrs.  Fiffer,  standing  on  her  own  threshold  with 
Mrs.  Berwick,  beckoned. 

"Why,  yes, — but  mother  is  waiting,  I  must  go 
in,"  Katherine  answered.  Something  in  her  man- 
ner, almost  an  embarrassment,  made  him  ask 

"Don't  you  want  me  to  come  to  Brighton?" 

'  Yes,  yes,  I  want  you  to  come.  I'd  love  it. " 
She  said  the  last  words  softly  and  held  out  her 
hand.  "We  could  talk  there,  we  can't  in  Lon- 
don; there's  too  much  traffic,  too  many  noises 
and  people.  We  might  be  able  to  get  away  from 
it  all  for  a  little  while — in  the  car,  if  you  brought 
it." 

"I  will." 

She  gave  him  a  happy  nod  and  turned  toward 
the  house;  then  looked  back  over  her  shoulder 
and  said,  "Think  you  migh^  come  to  Kenton 
House  to-night.  I  know  you  are  asked;  but  if 
you  don't  want — why,  there's  an  end  of  it. " 

"I  will.  I  do  want  to  come."  The  light  was 
in  his  eyes  as  he  turned  away. 


S3 


CHAPTER  V 

IT  was  there  when  he  went  back  to  the  morning- 
room.     "You  must  forgive  my  bad  manners," 
he  said,  and  put  his  hand  on  Parker's  shoulder, 
"we  always  air  them  to  our  old  friends." 

"Quite  right.  I  like  them  best,  but  they  give 
one  away.  Tell  you  what,  George,  that's  a  'cute 
little  woman." 

"Who— which?" 

"Why,  Mrs.  Berwick.  The  way  she  fastened 
on  to  the  mother  while  you  walked  off  with  the 
girl  was  worth  coming  to  see. " 

"It  was.  She  may  have  less  virtue;  I've 
nothing  to  do  with  that  one  way  or  the  other, 
but  she  has  more  tact  than  any  woman  I've  met 
with  for  some  time;  and  take  it  altogether,  tact 
is  the  better  possession;  it  lasts  longer  and  often 
goes  further,  but — "  The  door  opened.  "Oh, — 
here's  Lord  Derbyshire. " 

Parker,  unused  to  titles,  looked  up  quickly,  and 
a  shade  of  surprise  passed  over  his  face.  He  had 
a  respect  for  physique,  and  it  struck  him  that  if 
this  were  all  rank  and  pedigree  could  give  in  the 
way  of  looks  they  were  not  up  to  much. 

54 


Gave  a  Party 

"How  do,  Wendern?"  Derbyshire  seemed  dis- 
appointed at  finding  the  room  empty. 

"How  do  you  do?  This  is  my  friend,  Joe 
Parker." 

Parker  had  risen,  evidently  expecting  to  be 
formally  introduced,  and  was  making  his  best 
bow.  "Good  morning,  sir,  I'm  from  Australia, 
and  glad  to  see  you. " 

"I  say — thank  you."  Derbyshire  was  over- 
come by  the  bow.  "Australia's  an  awfully  fine 
country,  I'm  told." 

"It  is,  and  there's  plenty  of  it;  in  fact,  it  can't 
be  beat  for  size."  Parker  looked  at  him  again, 
and  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  something  to  justify 
the  title  and  probable  position  of  the  little  fair  man 
before  him. 

"Well,  it  has  more  room  to  stretch  itself  out 
in.  You  see,  the  Channel  gets  itself  rather  in  the 
way  over  here,"  was  the  profound  remark. 

"I  suppose  you've  never  been  over  to  us,  sir?" 
Parker  wondered  if  he  ought  to  say  "my  lord," 
but  decided  quickly  and  obstinately  that  he  wasn't 
going  to  do  it  to  this  whippersnapper. 

"No.  Never  been  farther  than  Monte  Carlo, 
that  sort  of  thing — good  hotels,  cook  well,  and  time 
always  in  a  hurry,  so  that  it's  gone  before  you  know 
where  you  are — rather  a  good  thing,  I  suppose; 
get  bored  if  it  didn't.  Awful  bore  getting  bored, 

55 


George  Wendern 

you  know. "  Having  disposed  of  Parker,  Derby- 
shire turned  to  Wendern.  "I've  been  round  the 
corner;  they  told  me  Mrs.  and  Miss  Fiffer  were 
here." 

"They've  just  gone  back." 

"Well,  if  you  don't  mind,  I'll  go  too.  I've  got 
a  bull  pup  for  Miss  Fiffer,  and  should  like  to  see 
it  gets  fair  play  with  her  Persian  kitten."  He 
nodded  to  the  two  men.  "I  expect  you're  pre- 
cious glad  to  get  out  of  Australia,"  was  his  parting 
tactful  remark  to  Parker.  The  front  door  banged 
after  him. 

"Why  didn't  you  let  him  go  across  by  the  win- 
dow, George?"  Parker  asked. 

"There  was  no  occasion." 

"Miss  Fiffer's  a  fine  girl." 

"Yes."  Wendern's  eyes  turned  towards  the 
house  in  which  she  lived. 

"A  great  heiress,  isn't  she?" 

"Thirty  thousand  a  year,  or  more."  There 
was  regret  in  the  voice. 

"Well,  it  would  be  useful." 

"It's  the  girl  I  want,  not  her  dollars." 

"Got  enough  of  your  own  left  to  match  them?" 

"No;  but  if  she  cares,  it  won't  matter  whether 
I'm  rich  or  poor. " 

"It  usually  matters  a  good  deal." 

Wendern  chafed  a  little,  but  tried  not  to  show  it. 
56 


Gave  a  Party 

"I'm  learning  to  hate  the  stress  laid  on  money — 
the  importance  given  to  it.  It  is  overrated,  till 
the  whole  world  seems  to  turn  on  hands  and  feet 
of  metal,"  he  said. 

"Most  people  like  it — especially  women." 
"I  know.     And  if  I  have  it  and  she  wants  it, 
it  will  add  to  my  happiness  to  give  it  her.     If  I 
haven't,  she  can  fall  back  on  her  own;  so  it  needn't 
worry  me." 

"You  seem  to  be  pretty  sure  of  her." 
"It  is  amazing  if  she  cares;  but  I  should  insult 
her  if  I  didn't  think  it.     And  I  shall  be  done  for 
if — "     He  said  it  almost  to  himself. 

"George,  you've  taken  it  badly  this  time." 
"I've  taken  it  badly."     Wendern  changed  the 
subject.     "Let's  talk  of  home.     How  did  the  old 
place  look  when  you  saw  it  last?" 

"That's  some  time  ago;  but  it  looked  the  same 
as  ever. " 

"Which  means,  as  if  Heaven  had  annexed  it." 
"I  wonder  what  made  you  sell  it?" 
"  I  wanted  to  be  free,  to  wander  about  the  world 
without  the  worry  of  possessions.    But  I  'm  long- 
ing to  go  back  again;  it's  the  soil  from  which  I 
grew,  the  sky  which  drew  me  up.     I  kept  Sand- 
way  Strip,"  he  added  suddenly. 
"The  worst  bit  of  all." 

"I  know;   but  a  little  shanty  stood  on  it  once 
57 


George  Wendern 

in  which  my  father  and  mother  lived  their  first 
years  of  struggle,  when  they  were  young  and  strong, 
the  whole  world  to  each  other, — and  often  couldn't 
see  four  meals  ahead.  I  sit  and  think  of  it  some- 
times till  I'm  so  homesick  I  could  walk  to  it." 
He  got  up  and  crossed  the  room.  "I  shall  have  to 
go  back;  that  will  be  the  end  of  it.  I'm  out  of 
place  in  this  country." 

"Well,  I  feel  that  about  myself — already," 
Parker  answered  slowly.  "It  takes  a  long  time  to 
get  used  to  the  ways  they  have  over  here,  if  you 
haven't  been  born  to  them. "  Then,  after  a  pause, 
"Do  you  remember  a  queer-looking  chap  called 
Longarm  Jack?" 

"Yes." 

"When  I  got  back  to  Melbourne  six  months 
ago,  he  came  along  and  asked  me  if  I  thought 
you'd  sell  that  bit." 

"I  know, — he  wrote  to  me;  he  wants  to  put  up 
a  cabin  while  he  looks  after  Bender's  claim,  which 
is  next  to  it.  He  won't  get  it;  nothing  shall  be 
built  on  it,  unless  it's  a  home  for  me  and  mine. " 

"I  shouldn't  think  that  likely." 

"I  don't  know;  perhaps  some  day  it  will  hap- 
pen. I'm  tired  of  every  crowded  place  under  the 
sun  and  of  all  they  do  in  cities. "  Wendern  seemed 
to  be  lost  in  a  dream  for  a  moment,  but  he  always 
spoke  freely  with  Joe  Parker.  "I  think  some- 

58 


Gave  a  Party 

times  that  God's  vengeance  on  Adam  has  been 
civilisation,"  he  went  on;  "it's  a  curse,  and  men 
will  go  piling  it  up  till  they  lie  flattened  out  be- 
neath it.  It  doesn't  suit  me;  I  hunger  for  the 
old  life,  the  prairies,  the  blue  sky,  the  stillness  and 
work — and  the  roughness.  They  prate  about  the 
simple  life  here,  they  should  try  it  there;  they 
would  feel  themselves  back  at  the  starting-point. 
Let's  talk  of  something  else;"  he  held  out  his 
cigarette-case. 

"No,  thank  you,  not  my  size.  By  the  way, 
George,  when  I  was  in  Melbourne  I  heard  you 
talked  of  a  good  deal  in  connection  with  the  Ban- 
gor  Estates  Syndicate.  They  didn't  think  much 
of  it  over  there. " 

Wendern  looked  up  almost  anxiously.  Then 
answered  as  if  a  thought  had  reassured  him, 
"Yes." 

"I  understand  you're  Managing  Director  here?" 

"Yes,  but  it's  Lant's  deal.  He  went  about  in 
London  among  the  fashionable  fools;  any  one 
can  do  it  if  he's  supposed  to  be  rich.  He  intro- 
duced them  to  the  Syndicate." 

Parker  gave  a  grunt.  "And,  with  your  name 
tacked  on  as  well,  the  shares  were  pretty  freely 
taken  up?" 

"That's  so.  But  I'm  the  biggest  shareholder 
after  Lant." 

"How  is  it  going?" 

59 


George  Wendern 

"At  first  the  accounts  were  magnificent;  then 
they  ceased  altogether.  Lately  things  have  been 
rather  difficult.  Six  weeks  ago  Lant  cabled  that 
he  was  on  his  way  to  England.  He  was  at  Naples 
last  week;  he'll  be  in  Paris  next." 

Parker  gave  another  grunt. 

"I  always  believed  in  Lant,"  Wendern  said,  and 
added  reluctantly,  "Some  people  didn't." 

"He's  reputed  to  be  worth  four  millions." 

"Luck  for  him."  There  was  a  long  pause; 
then  Wendern  looked  up  again.  "I  wish  I  hadn't 
played  the  fool,  Joe;  I  should  like  the  money  to 
be  on  my  side,  and  not  on  hers. " 

"But  you  have  a  fortune  in  the  Derryford 
Docks." 

"Locked  up  in  a  lawsuit — two  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds.  Everything  I  have  is  locked  up, 
for  I  have  twenty-five  thousand  somewhere  else, 
and  that  can't  move  till  the  Dock  business  is 
settled. " 

"But,  man,  you  don't  seem  to  know  that  the 
Dock  case  is  coming  on  next  week. " 

"Coming  on  next  week?"    He  was  roused  now. 

"Didn't  they  cable?  Don't  you  read  your 
Australian  papers?" 

"  I  haven't  opened  them. "  He  had  been  dream- 
ing of  Katherine  all  the  last  few  weeks,  of  nothing 
else. 

"  But  the  London  papers  have  had  telegrams — 
60 


Gave  a  Party 

it's  a  big  case,  George.  I  was  at  the  Agent- 
General's  yesterday — he  was  full  of  it. " 

"I  have  been  mad  and  thinking  about  other 
things;  but  I'll  cable  out  inquiries  at  once.  I 
imagined  it  wouldn't  come  on  for  another  month 
at  least.  If  it  goes  right  all  will  be  well. "  He  was 
silent  for  a  minute,  his  whole  expression  altered, 
"You've  opened  up  a  vista,  Joe,  for  it's  bound  to 
go  right.  Life  and  the  woman  I  love  are  coming 
into  line — I  feel  as  if  I  saw  the  masts  of  a  ship. " 

"Glad  I  spoke.  Here's  Mrs.  Berwick  again," 
as  the  trim  figure  appeared  at  the  window. 

"Oh,  but  I'm  interrupting  you,  I  know  I  am," 
she  said  with  soft  self-reproach. 

"It's  all  right,  Mrs. — Mrs.  Berwick,"  Parker 
hesitated  over  her  name,  but  he  looked  at  her  with 
a  deep-cut  smile  on  his  weathered  face, — "I'm 
about  going. " 

She  went  half-way  across  the  room,  meaning  to 
leave  them  together,  then  stopped  as  if  by  a  sud- 
den idea.  "I  don't  think  you've  seen  the  house 
yet,  Mr.  Parker;  I  should  so  like  to  show  it  you. 
The  drawing-room  is  quite  beautiful, — that's  why 
Miss  Fiffer  wants  Mr.  Wendern  to  give  a  dance. 
And  there  are  some  orange-trees  that  came  this 
morning,  they  would  make  you  think  of  Australia 
— do  oranges  grow  there?  I'm  so  ignorant,  I 
don't  know  a  bit. " 

A  gleam  of  amusement  came  into  Wendern's 
61 


George  Wendern 

eyes;  this  was  a  new  view  of  his  lady-housekeeper. 
"Go  and  look  at  them,  Joe,"  he  said.  "Mrs. 
Berwick  will  show  them  to  you. " 

Parker  consulted  a  big  gold  watch — it  slipped 
easily  out  of  a  pocket  that  was  evidently  much 
bigger.  "Well,  let's  say  ten  minutes  for  the 
orange-trees.  I'll  see  you  again  in  a  day  or  two, 
George.  If  I'm  in  the  city  perhaps  I'll  look  you 
up  at  the  office." 

"Do." 

"Won't  you  come,  too,  Mr.  Wendern?"  Mrs. 
Berwick  asked  as  she  lingered  by  the  door. 

"No,  thank  you.  If  you'll  let  me  I'll  write  a 
note  at  your  table. " 

"She's  an  uncommonly  'cute  little  woman," 
Parker  thought,  amending  his  former  verdict  as 
he  followed  her  out — "just  the  sort  to  have  with 
you  if  you  want  to  go  farther. " 

Rogers  had  evidently  been  watching  for  his 
moment;  he  found  it  when  Mrs.  Berwick  and 
Parker  stood  talking  by  the  orange-trees.  He 
went  softly  into  the  morning-room  and  up  to  the 
writing-table,  "Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  can  I  speak 
to  you  ? " 

Wendern  looked  up;  he  was  writing  on  a  cable 
form.  "I  believe  you're  doing  so  already." 

"My  mother's  telegraphed,  sir,  fell  and  broke 
her  left  leg." 

62 


Gave  a  Party 

"That's  bad.  Worse  if  she'd  broken  the  right 
one  too," — the  voice  was  sympathetic  but  ab- 
stracted. 

"And  turned  seventy-three,  sir." 

"A  good  age,  Rogers." 

"I  wondered  if  you'd  mind  my  going  to  her  for 
a  couple  of  nights?" 

"Of  course  you  must  go  to  her." 

"Thank  you,  sir."  Rogers  hesitated,  "It's 
rather  an  expensive  journey  to  Reading,  if  you 
don't  mind  my  saying  so.  There's  the  doctor, 
and  perhaps  she'll  need  a  few  things. " 

Wendern  felt  absently  for  his  pocket-book  and 
opened  it.  "She'll  need  a  good  many  things,  here 
are  two  five-pound  notes. " 

"Thank  you,  sir;  is  it  my  wages?  They  are 
due- 

" Wages?    No, — a  little  present." 

Rogers  tried  not  to  show  his  surprise.  "Oh!" 
he  gasped,  "I've  been  awfully  upset — God  bless 
you  for  your  kindness. " 

A  little  smile  came  over  Wendern's  face.  "I 
hope  He  will,  Rogers — but  I  don't  expect  He'll  do 
much  for  a  tenner,"  he  added,  when  the  man  had 
left  the  room  with  well-tempered  elation. 

Mrs.  Berwick  returned  a  few  minutes  later. 

"Well,  what  did  Joe  think  of  the  house?" 

"Oh,  he  loved  it,"  she  said,  "but  we  only  went 
to  the  conservatory,  and  then  he  had  to  go. " 

63 


George  Wendern 

"Ah,  he  regretted  it  very  much,  I'm  sure." 
He  finished  the  note  he  was  writing  and  rose  as 
if  to  go  out. 

She  arrested  him  with  a  little  movement,  and 
spoke  in  a  cooing,  apologetic  voice, — "Mr.  Wen- 
dern, the  servants  want  their  wages :  it's  ridiculous 
of  them,  I  know,  but  they  do.  Could  you  find 
time  to  write  a  cheque?" 

He  stood  by  the  fireplace,  unruffled  and  still 
preoccupied.  "Why  do  they  want  their  wages? 
Rogers  is  going  to  his  mother  for  a  day  or  two,  and 
would  only  spend  his  if  he  had  them. " 

"But  that  class  is  so  absurd,  it  generally  ex- 
pects to  be  paid  once  a-month. " 

The  statement  appeared  to  interest  him.  "  Prob- 
ably that's  why  it's  so  unthrifty,"  he  answered. 
"Money  paid  in  small  sums  is  generally  frittered 
away. " 

"But,  dear  Mr.  Wendern,  people  will  insist  on 
having  it  sometines, — tiresome  trades-people,  for 
instance;  they  are  sadly  democratic  nowadays  and 
want  everything."  She  took  up  the  household 
books  from  the  writing-table.  "I  have  some  ac- 
counts here  of  yours,  and — and — one  or  two  of 
my  own  I  should  so  like  to  pay. "  She  had  found 
courage  to  speak  at  last,  but  her  hand  trembled. 

He  seemed  rather  amused.  "My  dear  lady,  I 
have  too  high  an  opinion  of  you  to  suppose  that 
you  mean  to  corrupt  your  creditors  by  giving  them 

64 


Gave  a  Party 

the  use  of  your  money. "  He  said  it  as  if  to  dis- 
miss the  subject. 

She  put  down  the  books  with  a  gesture  of  dis- 
may. 

"How  do  you  like  the  orange-trees?"  he  asked. 

"They  are  lovely." 

"By  the  way,  there  is  a  picture  sale  at  Christie's 
to-morrow.  I  must  see  if  I  can  pick  up  an  old 
master  or  two  to  send  home," — he  always  spoke 
of  Australia  as  home, — "one  ought  to  make  some 
return  to  a  place  that  is  so  hospitable  as  to  let  you 
be  born  in  it. " 

"How  thoughtful  you  are." 

He  smiled  at  her  absently.  He  was  thinking 
of  other  things  already. 

He  went  to  Kenton  House  that  night,  but  only 
for  half  an  hour, — he  had  outgrown  that  sort  of 
entertainment,  he  told  himself;  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  he  had  never  liked  it.  The  host  was  old  and 
deaf  and  very  rich,  a  widower  with  an  only  son; 
he  had  been  persuaded  by  a  relation,  an  enter- 
prising widow  with  daughters  to  marry,  to  give 
a  ball.  She  received  the  guests  for  him  at  the 
top  of  the  crowded  staircase;  behind  her  were 
drawing-rooms  full  of  people  talking  at  the  top 
of  their  voices,  beyond  them  the  band  and,  be- 
yond again,  in  a  long  gallery,  the  dancers.  He 

65 


George  Wendern 

searched  in  vain  for  Katherine,  and  found  her  at 
last  in  one  of  the  most  crowded  rooms.  It  had  a 
view  of  the  stairs,  through  a  doorway  on  one  side. 
She  seemed  to  be  watching  for  some  one  while  she 
talked;  Wendern  wondered  if  it  were  for  him. 
Lord  Ken  ton  was  beside  her;  his  shrivelled  face, 
with  the  carefully  brushed  and  dyed  hair  above  it, 
was  bent  towards  her,  as  if  he  were  deaf  but  try- 
ing to  gather  what  she  said.  Gradually  Wendern 
managed  to  get  near  her.  She  held  out  her  hand, 
but  her  manner  implied  that  she  did  not  wish  to 
be  interrupted.  A  man  he  knew  slightly  caught 
his  eye,  and  he  talked  with  him  just  to  make  time. 
In  a  few  minutes  Lord  Kenton  left  her,  evidently 
with  reluctance;  but  he  had  other  guests  who  de- 
manded his  attention;  Derbyshire,  hovering  by, 
adroitly  took  his  place,  and  as  if  for  a  reason  they 
had  already  discussed,  he  and  she  slowly  made 
their  way  together  towards  a  picture,  beneath  a 
special  light,  and  a  group  standing  near  it  at  the 
far  end  of  the  gallery.  Lord  Kenton  went  up  to 
them,  and  presently  Katherine  disappeared  with 
him. 

Wendern  looked  at  the  crowd  about  him  again; 
the  faces  were  worn,  the  smiles  on  them  seemed 
spurious,  the  expressions  strained  or  anxious,  the 
jewels  theatrical,  but  he  had  never  appreciated 
diamonds;  an  acre  of  unspoiled  land  with  the  blue 

66 


Gave  a  Party 

sky  above  it  was  worth  more  to  him  than  all  the 
gems  in  existence.  "This  place  suggests  a  first-class 
compartment  bound  for  Hell,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"It's  a  queer  thing  that  people  who  believe  them- 
selves possessed  of  souls  should  deliberately  come 
to  it."  He  went  on  through  the  suite  of  rooms 
towards  the  gallery;  the  band  was  playing  a  waltz, 
the  air  there  seemed  full  of  gaiety,  the  dancers  were 
young.  It  was  better,  but  he  remembered  the  dim 
ways  of  the  park,  the  wide  stretches  of  grass,  the 
long  deserted  roadways  with  the  trees,  Nature's 
sentinels,  beside  them,  and  the  stars  glinting  be- 
tween the  leaves  of  the  branches  that  reached 
above  the  pathway  he  liked  best. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  was  in  a  taxi  hurrying  to  it. 

"She  will  come  through,"  he  said  as  he  breathed 
in  the  stillness,  "she  is  on  her  way,  though  at 
present  she  finds  the  strange  crew  amusing." 
He  had  no  doubt;  for  did  he  not  remember  the 
long  twilights  of  the  past  weeks,  of  the  soft  June 
evenings?  They  had  met  without  any  precon- 
certed signal  at  the  gate  of  the  little  enclosure  that 
was  marked  off  to  the  Fiffer  house,  or  sat  on  a 
trimly  painted  seat  near  by.  All  the  good  green 
space  was  deserted  at  that  hour,  as  Lant  had  fore- 
told it  would  be.  The  fashionable  people  of  the 
houses  round,  tired  out  with  their  dissipations, 
were  resting  or  making  ready  for  the  amusements 

67 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

of  the  night,  and  the  shadows  had  half  hidden 
their  dwellings.  Those  little  intervals  snatched 
from  the  restless  world  near  them  had  seemed  al- 
most an  enchantment  to  Wendern.  The  stillness, 
the  softness,  the  finding  a  sanctuary  there  in  the 
heart  of  London  was  so  strange,  and  the  sky  of 
deepening  grey,  the  little  wandering  wind,  warm 
and  caressing  it  had  been,  had  served  for  a  setting 
to  his  dreams.  He  had  seen  her  eyes;  shy  and 
questioning  and  tender,  yet  with  something  in 
them  that  petitioned  him  not  to  speak  too  soon, 
not  to  break  the  spell  of  those  wonderful  moments 
that  followed  the  good  days  they  were  living, 
moments  that  seemed  to  be  as  none  other  in  the 
world  had  been,  and  to  linger  between  the  greyness 
and  the  dark  as  if  time  were  loth  to  end  them. 
Once  he  had  held  her  hand  longer  than  usual  when 
they  parted.  "Good-night,  George  Wendern,'* 
she  had  said — the  first  time  she  had  called  him  so 
— and  she  lingered  a  moment  as  if  to  hear  again 
his  whispered  "Katherine"  before  she  abruptly 
turned  away. 


68 


CHAPTER  VI 

WENDERN'S  private  room  at  the  office  of 
the  Bangor  Estates  Syndicate  in  Great 
St.  Helen's,  James  Dawson  there  alone,  busy  sort- 
ing letters.  There  was  one  with  the  Naples  post- 
mark. "From  Mr.  Christopher  Lant;  we  shall 
hear  something  about  this  old  Syndicate  at  last," 
he  said  to  himself,  and  his  spirits  rose.  He  was  a 
spare  man  of  nearly  forty,  with  a  worried  expres- 
sion, devoted  to  Wendern,  but  sceptical  as  to  the 
Australian  manager,  though  it  was  Lant  who  had 
known  him  first  and  suggested  that  the  Syndicate 
would  be  an  excellent  home  for  a  saved-up  £200. 
Concerning  his  modest  speculation  he  had  no 
anxiety;  for,  with  Wendern  as  English  manager, 
he  felt  convinced  that  whatever  happened  his 
money  would  be  safe.  But  there  was  one  share- 
holder who  was  sorely  on  his  mind.  "Something 
will  have  to  be  done  about  father-in-law  Tees- 
dale,"  he  said  to  himself,  "or  life  won't  be  worth 
living.  If  I'd  known  what  he  was  like  before  I 
married  Polly,  I'd  have  thought  twice  about  it." 
He  looked  up  at  the  map  of  the  Bangor  territory 

69 


George  Wendern 

hanging  over  the  fireplace.  A  railway,  designed 
to  run  down  to  the  coast,  was  marked  out;  but 
nothing  had  been  heard  of  it  lately. 

He  turned  his  head  with  a  jerk  and  listened; 
some  one  was  coming  upstairs.  Without  knock 
or  hesitation  the  door  was  opened  and  a  heavy  ill- 
tempered-looking  man  of  fifty  entered. 

"Yes,  sir?"  Dawson  had  assumed  a  brisk 
business-like  air. 

"Who  [are  you?"  the  newcomer  asked  in  a 
bullying  tone. 

"Mr.  Wendern's  chief  clerk,  sir." 

"And  where  is  he?  And  what  about  this  pre- 
cious Syndicate?" 

"About  it?" 

"Is  it  a  swindle?" 

"Swindle?  Really,  sir — "  Dawson  was  over- 
come with  astonishment. 

"Perhaps  you'll  answer  my  question." 

"Mr.  Wendern  is  not  here;  but  you  may  rest 
assured " 

"I  may  rest  assured,  I  suppose,  that  I've  lost 
my  five  hundred?  I  mean  to  see  him  before  I 
leave."  He  sat  down  and  the  chair  creaked. 
"It  isn't  the  money  I  mind,  but  I've  never  made  a 
mistake  in  my  life,  and  I'm  not  going  to  begin." 

"My  father-in-law  has  put  in  the  same 
amount " 


Gave  a  Party 

"What's  that  to  me?" 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  have  let  him  do  it  if  I  didn't 
believe  in  the  Syndicate  myself,  sir.  It's  all  he 
has  in  the  world." 

"Probably  he'll  lose  it,  and  serve  him  right. 
Fools  and  their  money  are  soon  parted,  it  knows 
better  than  to  stay  with  them;  nothing  like  money 
for  keeping  prudent  company  in  the  long  run. " 

"But  he'll  be  ruined  if  he  loses  it." 

"He  oughtn't  to  have  risked  it." 

"You  risked  yours,  sir." 

"Because  I've  plenty  to  get  it  back  with  if 
necessary.  A  man  who  has  only  £500  ought  to 
put  it  into  a  Building  Society,  and  take  care  that 
it's  a  good  one  before  he  does,  or  a  Savings  Bank, 
while  he  sets  to  and  earns  more  to  go  with  it. 
Perhaps  you  are  in  this  deal  yourself?" 

"I've  invested  my  own  money  in  it,  of  course," 
Dawson  was  severe  but  imperturbable.  "I  think 
I  hear  the  chiefs  step — here  he  is,  sir;  he  will 
answer  your  inquiries  himself. " 

Wendern,  leisurely  as  ever,  entered.  He  looked 
at  the  visitor  with  interest  but  without  surprise. 

"Good  morning,  Dawson,"  he  said,  then  turned 
to  the  big  man,  who  had  risen.  "Mr. ?" 

"  Digby,  that's  my  name,  I  came  to  talk  to  you 
about  this  Syndicate." 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to  talk  to  you,  my  dear 
71 


George  Wendern 

sir,  but  this  is  my  private  office,  to  which  I  have 
not  invited  you,  so  I  must  ask  you  to  wait  while 
I  open  my  letters.  Will  you  try  these?"  he  held 
out  his  cigarette  case. 

"No,  thank  you,"  Digby  grunted — a  different 
sort  of  grunt  from  Parker's — and  made  his  im- 
patience evident. 

Wendern  turned  to  the  letters,  read  two  or  three, 
and  threw  them  on  one  side.  There  was  a  cable, 
he  had  not  noticed  it  at  first,  he  tore  it  open 
quickly,  "The  Derryford  Dock  case  comes  on 
next  Monday,"  he  said  to  Dawson,  "and  is  ex- 
pected to  last  several  days. " 

"Is  that  anything  to  do  with  us?"  the  visitor 
asked. 

"Nothing  at  all  to  do  with  you,  but  it  is  highly 
important  to  me. " 

Digby's  temper  was  giving  out.  "I  want  to 
talk  to  you  about  this  Syndicate,  and  my  time's 
as  precious  as  yours,"  he  said.  "I'm  not  satis- 
fied with  what  I've  heard;  and  a  good  many  aren't; 
we  get  reports  that  we  look  upon  as  bluff — do  you 
hear,  sir — bluff?" 

"Most  certainly  I  hear,"  Wendern  was  still 
unruffled;  he  pulled  another  letter  from  its  en- 
velope; it  was  type-written,  and  had  several 
signatures.  "  Perhaps  this  will  interest  you,  Mr. — 
Mr.  Digby?"  He  read  aloud — 

72 


Gave  a  Party 

DEAR  SIR, — We,  the  undersigned,  not  being  satisfied  with 
our  position  on  the  Bangor  Estates  Syndicate,  nor  with  the 
rumours  concerning  its  prospects  which  are  circulated  in  the 
City,  propose  calling  upon  you  at  your  office  next  Wednesday 
morning,  the  1 5th  inst.,  at  11.30. 

JOHN  F.  WELCH. 

WILLIAM  SHAW. 

THOMAS  HACKETT. 

ROBERT  BENNETT. 

ISAAC  LAZURUS. 

WILLIAM  DOBSON. 

CYRIL  GRAHAM  (Rev.). 

"Six  men  and  a  parson — I  wonder  who  put  the 
parson  into  it." 

"I  knew  this  was  coming.  They  think  about 
it  as  I  do,"  Digby  blustered. 

"Well,  suppose  you  join  them  on  Wednesday 
morning,  the  I5th,  at  11.30,  my  dear  sir, — one- 
two — "  he  counted  the  names  again,  "seven,  that 
would  make  eight?  Perhaps  Mr.  Lant  may  be 
here  by  then. " 

"I  think  there's  a  letter  from  him  this  morning, 
sir."  Dawson  held  out  the  one  with  the  Naples 
postmark;  it  had  been  passed  over. 

"Ah,"  Wendern  said  as  he  read  it,  "he  is  at 
Naples,  and  will  be  here  in  a  few  days — in  time 
for  the  deputation,  probably,  on  the  I5th.  Until 
then,  you  might  think  over  the  questions  you  wish 
to  ask?  I'm  sure  you  will  understand  that  I  pre- 
fer to  see  you  all  at  the  same  time."  He  held 
open  the  door. 

73 


George  Wendern 

Digby  was  evidently  at  a  loss  what  to  do. 
"Very  well,"  he  muttered,  after  a  moment's 
consideration,  "matters  will  have  to  come  to 
a  head  then — as  you  will  see,  both  of  you. "  He 
lumbered  downstairs. 

Wendern  went  back  to  his  letters.  Presently 
he  pushed  a  heap  of  them  towards  Dawson.  "I 
want  you  to  answer  these,  the  same  thing  to  them 
all:  'Mr.  Lant  is  expected  in  London  immediately, 
when  a  meeting  will  be  held  and  the  position  ex- 
plained to  the  shareholders.'  Luckily,  they're 
not  all  included  in  the  deputation." 

"Yes,  sir. "  Dawson  hesitated;  evidently  some- 
thing was  perplexing  him. 

Wendern  saw  it,  and  asked,  "What  is  it?" 

"There's  my  father-in-law,  Mr.  Teesdale,  sir; 
he  put  five  hundred  pounds  into  the  Syndi- 
cate  " 

"Well?" 

"He's  obliged  to  pay  something  up,  and  the 
fact  is  he  wants  to  take  it  out. " 

"He  must  wait  till  Mr.  Lant  comes.  I  daresay 
he  will  let  him  withdraw  it. " 

Dawson  hesitated;  he  was  respectful  but  al- 
most vehement  when  he  spoke.  "Couldn't  you 
let  him  have  it,  sir?  It  isn't  much  to  you,  but 
it's  everything  in  the  world  to  him.  If  you  would 
let  him  have  it,  why,  it  would  be  a  kindness  I 

74 


Gave  a  Party 

should  never  forget.  It  isn't  that  I  don't  believe 
in  the  Syndicate  myself — my  own  money  is  in  it, 
as  you  know, — but  he  gets  into  such  a  state  of 
mind.  He  was  off  his  head  once  for  a  little  while, 
and  this  five  hundred  pounds  is  upsetting  all  the 
peace  of  my  home.  My  wife  is  his  daughter; 
naturally  he  goes  on  at  her,  and  the  fact  is  I  daren't 
go  back  this  afternoon,  sir,  unless  I  can  tell  him 
it's  safe. " 

"Safe!    You  shall  have  it;  give  me  the  cheque- 
book.    After  all,  a  bank  is  only  an  abstraction, 
but  an  old  man  and  a  father-in-law  is  different." 
A  boy  entered.     "Mr.  Joe  Parker's  here,  sir." 
"Ask  him  to  wait  five  minutes  while  I  write  a 
note. "     He  sat  down  and  wrote  to  the  bank  man- 
ager— 

I  shall  be  greatly  obliged  if  you  will  honour  another 
cheque.  I  have  drawn  one  for  £500  in  favour  of  Mr.  James 
Dawson.  The  lawsuit,  in  which  I  have  a  large  sum  of  money 
involved,  will  be  decided  next  week,  and  I  may  mention  that 
Mr.  Christopher  Lant  will  be  in  London  immediately  with 
a  full  account  of  the  Bangor  Estates  Syndicate. 

"Send  this  round  at  once,"  he  said  to  Dawson, 
"and  show  Mr.  Parker  up  in  three  minutes." 

"Yes,  sir.  I  can  never  thank  you  enough;  you 
have  taken  a  load  of  worry  off  my  mind. " 

Wendern  nodded  for  answer;  he  had  no  words 
at  his  command.  Before  Parker  came  up  he 
wanted  to  think,  to  be  alone,  to  face  things. 

75 


George  Wendern 

Money!  He  had  never  understood  the  meaning 
of  it  before — the  power  of  it,  the  misery,  the  pleas- 
ure it  had  in  its  gift.  And  still  he  had  only  a  glim- 
mering of  it,  for  he  looked  upon  the  Syndicate 
worry  as  just  a  queer  and  temporary  development 
of  things,  a  diversion  of  time  and  the  devil's,  de- 
signed to  harry  him  and  produce  a  depression  he 
was  a  fool  not  to  shake  off — for  it  was  bound  to 
come  right,  and  he  would  be  all  the  better  for  see- 
ing Joe  Parker.  He  touched  the  bell  by  his  side; 
a  dead  weight  seemed  to  be  laid  upon  him,  even 
to  reach  out  his  hand  was  an  effort. 

Parker  strode  in,  strong  and  sinewy,  brusque 
and  kindly.  A  vision  of  blue  sky  and  wide  spaces 
went  swiftly  through  Wendern's  brain,  as  it  had 
done  through  Mrs.  Fiffer's  at  the  Claridge  dinner 
a  few  months  ago.  "  God  made  them, "  he  thought, 
"but  He  gave  the  devil  some  plots,  and  he  built 
on  them." 

"Why,  George,  what's  up,  you  seem  a  bit 
anxious?" 

"It's  nothing." 

The  backwoodsman  looked  at  him  sharply. 
"Well,  if  you've  got  five  minutes,  I'd  like  to  sit 
down. " 

"Do, — but  wait  while  I  write  out  a  telegram; 
I  must  send  one  to  Lant. " 

"I  should  tell  him  to  hurry  here  if  I  were  you." 
76 


Gave  a  Party 

Wendern  reached  down  a  yellow  form  from  a 
hook  by  the  table.  "I'm  doing  so;  he's  still  in 
Naples." 

"He'd  be  better  in  London." 

"He'll  be  here  next  week,  and  there'll  be  a 
meeting  of  this  confounded  Syndicate.  Mean- 
while a  deputation  of  the  shareholders  is  to  worry 
me  on  Wednesday.  I  hope  he'll  come  for  it; 
that's  why  I'm  sending  him  a  wire. " 

He  wrote  it  out  and  a  couple  of  letters,  while  his 
friend  looked  awkwardly  through  'The  Times,' 
as  if  it  were  a  strange  paper  in  which  he  did  not 
know  his  way  about. 

"Now  then,  Joe?"  when  the  letters  and  tele- 
gram had  been  despatched. 

"I  came  to  see  you  about  two  things,  George. 
Partly  about  this  Syndicate,  partly  on  my  own 
account. " 

"Good.    Tell  me  your  own  part  first?" 

"Well,"  Parker  smoothed  down  the  knees  of 
his  trousers,  "there's  Mrs.  Berwick." 

Wendern  looked  up  amused.  "Yes,  there's 
Mrs.  Berwick.  You  saw  her,  for  the  third  time, 
I  believe,  yesterday. " 

"We — well,  the  fact  is,  we  had  a  talk  among 
those  orange-trees  the  other  day,  and  the  result 
was  a  little  dinner  together  last  night — at  the 
Carlton." 

77 


George  Wendern 

"Did  you?  I  was  strolling  over  Wimbledon 
Common,  looking  at  the  sky.  How  did  you  man- 
age to  find  your  way  to  the  Carlton?" 

"She  put  me  on  to  it — she's   'cute,"  Parker 
added  approvingly,  "seems  to  know  everything." 
"Oh  yes,  she's  'cute.     How  did  you  get  on?" 
"First-rate.     She's    a    nice   woman.     Do   you 
know  much  about  her?" 
"No,  but  I  agree — she's  a  nice  woman." 
"Know  anything  about  her  people?" 
"Nothing.    Not  my  business. " 
"I  wonder  what  sort  of  age  she  is?" 
"I  never  speculate  about  a  woman's  age.     She 
looks — well,  thirty-four,  except  when  she's  made 
up,  then  she  looks  forty — but  what  does  it  matter, 
if  you  like  her?    It's  her  future  that  concerns  you, 
not  her  past."    There  was  a  pause.    Then,  try- 
ing to  keep  amusement  out  of  his  voice,  he  asked, 
"Are  you  thinking  of  matrimony,  Joe?" 

Joe  shook  his  head  in  a  doubtful  manner,  evi- 
dently he  had  not  quite  made  up  his  mind.  "Well, 
I  don't  know.  She's  clever  and  knows  what  she 
wants;  one  might  do  worse  than  take  her  farther, 
though  I'm  not  sure  that  I've  got  enough  to  take 
her  very  far.  I  should  think  she'd  expect  her  full 
fare  paid." 

"You  may  lay  your  bottom  dollar  on  that. 
But  she  isn't  a  bad  sort." 

78 


Gave  a  Party 

"The  thing  is  that  I've  never  hung  on  to  a 
woman  yet. " 

"Then  begin.  Women  are  bankers  of  most  of 
the  virtues,  and  when  we  are  good  for  anything 
it's  generally  because,  without  knowing  it,  we've 
drawn  upon  them.  This  sounds  rather  like  senti- 
ment from  cheap  melodrama,"  Wendern  said, 
wrinkling  his  forehead,  "  but  it's  true  all  the  same. " 

"Well,  what  I've  always  heard  about  a  woman 
is,  that  you  may  care  for  her,  give  her  things,  do 
anything  you  like  with  her,  except  trust  her. 
That's  awkward." 

"Don't  believe  it,  Joe,  doubting  the  thing  you 
love  isn't  good  enough.  What  else  did  you  want 
to  tell  me?" 

Parker  answered  reluctantly.  "There's  this 
Syndicate.  They  say  rather  queer  things  about 
it  in  the  City. " 

"What  do  they  say?" 

"Why,  that  Lant  came  over  to  negotiate  it, 
and  said  Bangor's  price  was  fifty  thousand " 

"That's  right.     Lant  found  it  himself." 

" — But  that  Bangor  was  a  figurehead;  Lant 
got  the  estates  for  nothing,  and  they're  worth 
nothing.  What  did  you  put  in?" 

"Twenty  thousand.  The  other  members  of 
the  Syndicate  found  £50,000  which,  except  for 
enough  held  back  for  office  expenses  here,  was  sent 

79 


George  Wendern 

out  there — "  he  stopped,  then  went  on  uneasily, 
"I  don't  believe  these  stories;  the  thing  is  sound 
enough.  Lant  has  his  head  screwed  on  the  right 
way,  and  he's  all  right  at  bottom. " 

"You've  a  good  opinion  of  human  nature,  al- 
ways had." 

"Human  nature  is  all  right;  it  may  get  a  little 
smudged  with  the  blacks  of  a  city,  or  misshapen 
with  the  knocks  of  the  world,  but  it  comes  out 
all  right  in  the  end  if  you  know  how  to  treat  it. 
That's  another  sentence  fit  for  melodrama,  Joe, 
if  you  have  any  friend  in  that  way  of  business. " 

"Well,  you  may  say  what  you  like,  but  you're 
feeling  a  bit  uncomfortable. " 

"  It's  only  the  worst  side  of  me  trying  to  give  a 
whisper  to  the  other." 

Joe  considered  a  moment. 

"What  time  is  that  deputation  coming  on 
Wednesday?" 

"Half-past  eleven." 

"I'll  make  it  my  business  to  look  in  an  hour  later 
and  hear  how  it's  gone  off. "  Parker  got  up  to  go. 

A  letter  was  brought  in.  Wendern  opened  it 
absently  while  he  answered  "Do" — he  looked  up 
with  an  almost  startled  expression  on  his  face. 

"Hullo,  anything  the  matter?" 

"Yes,  this  is  rather  a  worry,"  he  read  the  letter 
again.  "Dawson's  father-in-law  put  five  hundred 

80 


Gave  a  Party 

pounds  into  the  Syndicate;  all  he  had,  apparently. 
Lant's  accounts  were  so  highly  coloured  in  the 
beginning  that  people  would  have  put  their  souls 
in  it  if  they'd  had  the  chance.  The  father-in- 
law  has  got  into  a  funk  lately,  and  made  the  fuss 
relations  usually  do  if  you  have  a  finger  in  their 
dealings — so  I  am  told,  I  never  had  any  myself. 
It  ended  just  now  in  my  giving  a  cheque  for  the 
five  hundred  pounds.  I  sent  a  note  to  the  bank 
asking  them  to  honour  it,  but  the  scoundrels  re- 
fuse; there's  a  pretty  overdraft  there,  of  course. 
What  the  deuce  am  I  to  do  if  it  comes  back  dis- 
honoured? I  hope  Dawson  hasn't  sent  it  in,  I 
made  it  payable  to  him."  He  pushed  the  button 
of  the  electric  bell.  "Where  is  Mr.  Dawson?" 
he  asked  the  boy  who  answered  it. 

"  Downstairs,  sir. " 

Wendern  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"I  want  him." 

"He  needn't  come  yet,"  Parker  put  in,  "tell 
him  five  minutes'  time. "  He  turned  to  Wendern 
when  the  boy  had  gone,  "I  can  manage  it,  George." 

"You?" 

"Five  hundred  won't  break  me,  and  will  tide 
you  over  the  difficulty.  Where  do  you  bank  ?  I'll 
go  and  pay  it  in  at  once." 

"No,  old  man,  that  won't  do.  Suppose  things 
go  wrong  with  the  Dock  case,  it  will  break  me  ab- 

81 


George  Wendern 

solutely — for  a  time  at  any  rate.  It's  no  good 
pretending  it  wouldn't.  I've  played  the  fool 
completely. " 

"I  don't  think  it's  possible  it  can  go  against 
you,  from  what  I  hear;  but  even  if  it  does,  five 
hundred  pounds  won't  break  me.  I'll  go  at  once. " 
He  got  up,  then  hesitated.  "What  about  Miss 
Fiffer?" 

Wendern  wrinkled  his  forehead  again.     "She 
is  at  Brighton — and  I  haven't  spoken  to  her  yet. " 
"Well,  you'd  better — and  make  things  right." 
"With  my  face  against  these  complications?" 
"You  said  the  other  day  that  money  didn't 
matter. " 

"It  doesn't — if  she  cares.  I  don't  want  her 
dollars — I  am  getting  afraid  of  money,  Joe.  I 
should  like  to  take  her  away  to  the  other  end  of 
the  world  with  all  we  own  on  our  backs. " 
"Don't  think  that  would  please  her." 
"No,  it  wouldn't — and  this  is  only  a  temporary 
hole."  Wendern's  tone  changed,  he  shook  his 
head  and  was  himself  again.  "Lant  will  be  here 
to  see  the  deputation  through,  and  the  Syndicate's 
all  right,  I  expect.  When  the  Dock  case  is  settled 
there  will  be  £200,000  let  loose;  and  there's  plenty 
more  scattered  about  in  various  directions.  I 
must  gather  up  the  loose  ends,  that's  all. " 

"Well,  don't  make  yourself  uneasy  meanwhile, 
82 


Gave  a  Party 

I've  a  little  loose  cash,  if  it's  any  use  to  you.  By 
the  way,  you'd  better  telephone  to  that  bank  and 
say  I'm  coming." 

"I  will." 

Parker  waited  till  the  message  had  gone  through 
before  he  spoke  again,  "You'll  be  mum  about  Mrs. 
Berwick,"  he  said  sheepishly;  "don't  let  her  know 
I've  said  anything?" 

A  laugh  looked  out  of  Wendern's  eyes  as  he 
answered — 

"Wild  tigers  would  not  get  a  word  from  me." 

He  rang  for  Dawson  when  Parker  had  gone, 
"I  shall  not  be  here  again  to-day,"  he  said,  "I  am 
going — but  I  want  an  analysis  of  the  shareholders 
made." 

"Yes,  sir,"  Dawson  answered  from  mere  habit, 
"but  I  don't  quite  understand." 

"I  want  to  know  who  and  what  they  are  and 
whether  they  can  afford  to  speculate. " 

"Very  difficult  to  tell  that,  sir,  from  a  list. 
There  are  some  lords  on  it,  I  should  think  they  were 
all  right,  three  or  four  parsons  and  a  lot  of  widows." 

"Parsons  and  widows  oughtn't  to  be  allowed 
the  control  of  their  money,  they  always  make  fools 
of  themselves. " 

"I  hope  not,  sir,  in  this  instance.  And  there's 
my  little  bit,  though  I  don't  like  mentioning  it?" 

Wendern  gave  him  a  reassuring  nod.     "I'll  take 

83 


George  Wendern 

care  of  that,  Dawson,  come  what  will.  You've 
got  your  father-in-law  off  your  mind. " 

"Oh  yes,  I  have.  You  can't  think  what  your 
wife's  relations  are,  sir,  if  you  have  to  do  with  their 
money. " 

Outside  Wendern  took  a  taxi.  "Open  it,"  he 
said.  "Now  drive  to  Richmond  Park." 

The  man  looked  at  him  doubtfully.  "Seems 
all  right,"  he  thought,  "don't  want  any  one  from 
an  asylum,  or  a  bloke  blowing  his  brains  out  inside 
my  cab,  I  can  tell  him. " 

Lying  face  downwards  on  the  grass  in  one  of  the 
forgotten  by-ways  Wendern  felt  as  if  he  could  see 
through  the  earth,  deeper  and  deeper,  to  the  other 
side  of  the  world,  to  the  great  solitudes  and  the  high 
mountains,  the  wastes  of  water  and  the  wide 
prairies  that  he  loved.  "  If  I  were  only  away  from 
all  this  accursed  nonsense,"  he  told  himself, 
"this  meddling  with  money,  this  worshipping  of 
it,  she  and  I  in  the  world  alone — if  she  would  go, " 
he  added  with  a  touch  of  cynicism.  "Money — 
money,"  he  shuddered  as  he  thought  of  it,  "it's 
the  great  test  perhaps;  there's  some  solution  of  its 
mystery,  some  quenching  of  its  power,  some  anti- 
dote for  the  curse  it  is,  its  possession  or  its  loss, 
hidden  somewhere,  and  not  dreamt  of  yet — in  the 
cities  perhaps,  if  men  could  only  find  it.  But  it 
is  not  socialism,  nor  any  sort  of  robbery  disguised 

84 


Gave  a  Party 

as  legislation — there's  an  easier,  simpler  one 
waiting.  Meanwhile  it  must  be  treated  according 
to  the  rules,  I  suppose,  and  the  rules  have  been 
made  by  men,  honest  or  dishonest,  as  if  they  were 
at  the  mercy  of  a  toss-up. " 


CHAPTER  VII 

days  later  Mrs.  Fiffer  wrote  to  Wen- 
JL     dern  from  Brighton  announcing  that  they 
had   left   the  hotel.     Their  friends,   the  Lough- 
Johnsons,  had  taken  a  house  at  the  far  end,  fac- 
ing the  sea  at  Hove. 

"We  want  you  to  come  down  right  away  and 
see  us,"  she  said,  "I  told  you  about  Mrs.  Lough- 
Johnson.  She  is  a  real  nice  woman  and  most 
anxious  to  make  your  acquaintance.  I'll  get  back 
to  town  this  next  Monday  morning,  though  Kath- 
erine  will  stay  on,  and  I'd  like  you  to  come  before 
I  go;  not  this  week-end,  for  we  are  full  up,  but  if 
you  could  motor  over  to-morrow  early  or  next  day 
it  would  fit  in  very  well.  And  as  there's  a  full 
moon  and  the  road  couldn't  be  better,  it  won't 
matter  if  you're  late  going  home,  for  we  hope 
you'll  stay  to  dinner,  and  Katherine  says  I'm  to 
tell  you  she  wants  you  to  take  us  to  Rottingdean; 
she  hasn't  been  yet,  because  she's  waiting  for  you." 

The  last  words  decided  him,  he  whizzed  there 
the  next  afternoon,  to  find  himself  in  a  house 
crowded  with  furniture  and  full  of  strange  people; 
the  Lough-Johnsons  apparently  had  a  habit  of 
collecting  them. 

86 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

"I'm  real  glad  to  see  you,"  Mrs.  Fiffer  said, 
"I've  got  to  go  to  Rottingdean  whether  I  like  it 
or  not,  but  I  want  to  do  it  in  your  motor,  for  Albert 
Lough- Johnson — he's  that  young  man  by  the  tall 
girl  in  grey,  he  married  her  last  fall,  and  this  is  part 
of  their  honeymoon — has  a  fancy  to  drive  their 
car  himself;  and  what  he  likes  is  a  road  at  the  edge 
of  a  cliff  and  a  speed  that  is  something  between 
a  flash  of  lightning  and  a  whirlwind.  I  couldn't 
help  thinking  yesterday  that  at  any  moment  we 
might  go  over,  and  though  no  doubt  the  bottom 
of  the  ocean  is  interesting,  we  wouldn't  be  in  a 
condition  when  we  arrived  there  to  see  what  it 
was  like." 

At  first  his  visit  was  a  disappointment.  Kather- 
ine  seemed  to  be  interested  in  the  rest  of  the  party 
and  to  group  him  in  with  it,  but  that  was  all. 
The  afternoon  light  was  glaring,  they  waited  for 
it  to  soften,  tea  was  brought  in  and  prolonged. 
A  woman — she  was  forty-five,  straight-haired  and 
muscular,  who  came  to  call,  stayed  for  it.  The 
Lough-Johnsons  had  apparently  picked  her  up 
at  the  hotel,  and  were  rather  bored  now  at  her  ad- 
vances. She  had  been  round  the  world,  and  in- 
sisted on  cackling  about  it,  chiefly  to  Wendern; 
perhaps  she  had  heard  he  was  rich,  or  knew  that 
the  FifFers  were,  or  it  seemed  a  good  opportunity 
to  show  her  originality.  She  displayed  it  by  ask- 

87 


George  Wendern 

ing,  with  a  patronising  air,  questions  concerned 
with  the  luxury  of  travel,  and  announcing  that 
she  herself  always  booked  as  a  steerage  passenger. 

"Now  I  expect  Miss  Fiffer  would  sooner  die," 
she  said,  "yet  I  did  it  from  choice.  It  is  a  great 
deal  to  be  hardy,  and  one  degenerates  with  too 
many  luxuries. " 

"They  make  life  agreeable,"  Katherine  an- 
swered. "But  it  isn't  doing  without  them  that 
I  should  mind " 

"Think  you  would,  Katherine,"  put  in  Mrs. 
Fiffer. 

"In  the  steerage,  yes,  mother;  because  people 
of  the  sort  who  go  by  it  often  seem  to  care  so  little 
for  the  things  that  cost  nothing.  I  could  be  happy 
without  the  luxuries,  without  anything  almost,  on 
a  wide  plain  or  in  a  dense  forest  a  thousand  miles 
away. " 

"Well,  I  don't  know,  but  I  think  you  wouldn't. " 
Mrs.  Fiffer  shook  her  head  doubtfully,  while 
Wendern,  feeling  as  if  Katherine  had  held  out  a 
hand  to  him,  looked  towards  the  window :  on  the 
far  horizon,  faintly,  mistily,  he  imagined  a  ship. 

At  last,  in  the  early  summer  evening,  an  expedi- 
tion was  made  up  and  they  started — two  motor 
loads.  Mrs.  Fiffer,  in  an  enormous  black  hat  fast- 
ened on  with  a  blue  veil,  her  body  shapeless  in  a 
wrap;  Katherine,  grave  and  slim,  in  a  long  white 

88 


Gave  a  Party 

coat,  a  yachting  cap,  and  a  white  gauze  scarf  tied 
under  her  chin;  Wendern  and  his  chauffeur. 
These  four  were  in  the  second  car,  the  first  was 
filled  by  the  Lough- Johnson  party. 

Wendern  was  impatient  at  thewhole  programme. 
He  had  imagined  himself  and  Katherine  flying 
along  the  King's  Road  alone,  and  far  away  from 
it;  Mrs.  Fiffer  was  a  worthy  person,  but  he  felt 
her  presence  to  be  an  intrusion,  and  the  Lough- 
Johnson  car,  though  it  was  well  ahead,  an  imperti- 
nence. It  was  not  till  they  had  left  Brighton  and 
Kemp  Town  behind  and  were  skimming  over  the 
Sussex  Downs,  with  the  sea  on  their  right  and  great 
stretches  of  blue  sky  overhead,  that  he  managed  to 
pull  himself  together. 

She  leant  towards  him  then.  "Isn't  it  good  to 
be  alive  when  there's  a  sea  like  that  beside  one?" 
she  asked  dreamily,  as  if  in  her  thoughts  she  trav- 
ersed it. 

"It's  always  good,"  he  answered. 

She  nodded  agreement  and  quoted,  to  herself  it 
seemed  rather  than  to  him,  the  famous  bit  from 
'Lavengro,'  "'There's  night  and  day,  brother, 
both  sweet  things.  Sun  and  moon  and  stars.  .  .  . 
There's  likewise  the  wind  on  the  heath.  Life  is 
very  sweet,  who  would  wish  to  die  ? " 

He  noticed  that  she  left  out  the  repetition  of  the 
word  "brother."  What  molehills  are  mountains 
to  lovers;  he  felt  that  the  omission  counted  one 

89 


George  Wendern 

to  him — a  mountain  with  the  sunshine  on  it. 
"Would  it  be  sweet  under  any  conditions?"  he 
asked,  thinking  of  the  travel-woman's  talk  just 
before  they  started. 

And  again  she  nodded.  "Under  any,"  and 
she  quoted,  "'there's  the  wind  on  the  heath — 
brother."  He  turned  away. 

They  came  to  the  dip,  Rottingdean  was  in 
sight;  they  whirled  round  the  white  house  at  the 
corner  and  slowed  down  into  the  village,  that 
seemed  to  be  hushing  itself  to  sleep  already,  be- 
fore the  sun  had  done  its  setting. 

"Rottingdean!"  he  heard  Katherine  whisper  to 
herself. 

They  looked  up  at  the  outsides  of  the  houses  in 
which  its  great  men  had  lived,  the  green  they  had 
so  often  crossed,  the  graves  in  which  some  of  them 
lay  sleeping,  the  church  with  the  little  old  box, 
that  the  Romans  had  made,  against  the  wall,  and 
at  the  beautiful  Burne-Jones  windows. 

"The  men  who  have  made  this  place  famous 
were  poor  once,"  Katherine  said.  "Wasn't  it 
lovely  for  them  to  be  born  in  the  work-world  with 
health  and  capacity  ?  All  the  chances  were  with 
them  at  the  outset,  and  they  took  them. " 

"But  that's  what  your  father  did  too,  Kather- 
ine," Mrs.  Fiffer  said.  "He  made  all  he  left;  it 
was  lucky  for  you  he  did. " 

"Why,  yes,  mother,  he  was  splendid."  She 
90 


Gave  a  Party 

added,  in  a  whisper  again,  "  But  we  wear  our  rue 
with  a  difference." 

"That's  another  quotation,"  Mrs.  Fiffer  ex- 
plained to  Wendern  with  pride  and  an  apologetic 
air.  "Katherine's  always  making  them.  I  can't 
think  how  she  remembers,  but  I  don't  know  that 
they're  any  good.  I  think  one  ought  to  be  able 
to  say  what  one  means  without  them.  There  are 
just  as  many  words  as  there  always  were  to  go  on 
with." 

They  were  looking  back  at  the  church,  and 
hardly  heard  her.  Katherine's  face  was  almost 
sad  as  she  touched  her  mother's  hand,  she  was  al- 
ways tender  to  her.  "Let  us  go,"  she  said.  A 
hush  seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  them  as  they 
set  their  faces  homewards,  perhaps  because  they 
knew  a  little  more,  than  when  they  had  started, 
that  was  worth  remembering. 

The  other  motor,  the  one  with  the  Lough- John- 
sons, was  already  on  its  way. 

Along  the  white  road  and  over  the  undulating 
downs  towards  Brighton,  Wendern  was  inwardly 
fuming.  There  was  only  dinner  to  come.  It 
would  be  more  or  less  of  a  party.  Soon  afterwards 
he  would  have  to  begin  his  journey  back  in  the  car. 
The  visit  was  a  failure.  "But  I'm  beginning  to 
realise,"  he  thought,  "that  life's  a  failure  as  far  as 
I  am  concerned.  The  right  things  seem  to  range 

91 


George  Wendern 

themselves  round  me,  but  I  don't  know  how  to 
deal  with  them.  The  whole  world  was  before  me, 
and  I  didn't  choose  the  right  place  to  live  in;  I 
had  money,  and  didn't  know  the  right  way  to  use 
it;  the  woman  I  love  seems  to  be  eluding  me. 
Probably  I'm  a  fool,  and  it  serves  me  right." 

They  had  reached  the  high  white  road  of  Kemp 
Town.  The  soft  grey  veils  of  twilight  were  drop- 
ping over  land  and  sea.  Katherine  seemed  lost 
in  a  dream.  He  leant  towards  her.  "  Does  it  ever 
strike  you  that  the  men  who  build  cities  are  crim- 
inals, and  the  people  who  live  in  them  are  maniacs 
or  fools ?"  he  asked.  "The  savages  and  the  beasts 
in  the  jungle  know  better." 

"Well,  you  know,  Mr.  Wendern,  they  must  be 
very  uncomfortable.  I  don't  think  a  jungle  would 
suit  any  of  us, "  Mrs.  Fiffer  answered.  "I'd  rather 
be  as  we  are." 

"Mother,"  Katherine  said  with  a  start,  "you 
ought  to  go  in  quickly  and  rest  before  dinner. 
But  I  should  like  to  get  out  and  walk.  It  isn't 
too  far?"  she  looked  at  Wendern. 

"No."  His  heart  bounded  as  he  spoke  to  the 
chauffeur. 

In  a  minute  they  were  alone;  the  motor  scur- 
ried on;  it  was  a  speck  in  the  distance  before  they 
spoke.  Then  they  stopped,  and  leaning  over  the 
wall  on  their  left,  looked  down  at  the  sea  and  far 

92 


Gave  a  Party 

away  to  the  haze  and  the  ships  passing  between. 
"I  was  afraid  we  weren't  going  to  get  any  time  at 
all  together,"  he  said.  "Those  friends  of  yours 
are  excellent  people,  but  they  have  a  way  that 
makes  one  feel  like  part  of  a  chorus. " 

"And  we  have  hardly  met  since  the  other  morn- 
ing," she  answered.  "You  went  away  from  Ken- 
ton  House  so  early. " 

"  I  thought  you  were  trying  to  avoid  me. " 

"Why  should  I  do  that?" 

"Anyway,  you  talked  to  Lord  Ken  ton  most  of 
the  time  I  was  there.  I  didn't  quite  see  where 
that  aged  gentleman's  merit  came  in." 

"He  is  Lord  Derbyshire's  cousin,  and  I  was 
observing  him. " 

"It  wasn't  the  first  time  you'd  seen  him?" 

"No,  but  I  hadn't  thought  about  him  before. 
He  gave  that  dinner  at  Claridge's,  where  we  first 
met;  but  I  don't  believe  I  even  looked  at  him  then. 
That's  why  I  wanted  to  talk  to  him.  It  was  so 
interesting  seeing  him  in  his  own  house.  We  don't 
have  marquises  in  our  country. " 

"  Personally,  I  have  never  wanted  them. " 

"Well,  I'd  like  to  know  about  this  one,  any- 
way. " 

"There  isn't  much  to  know.  I  heard  yesterday 
that  he  was  going  to  marry  again  because  his  only 
son  refuses  to  marry  at  all — prefers  motor  racing 
to  matrimony." 

93 


George  Wendern 

"He's  very  rich,  isn't  he?" 

"He  has  a  hundred  thousand  a-year,  and  never 
did  a  day's  work  in  his  life  or  spent  his  money  with 
any  intelligence  that  has  been  noticed." 

"But  don't  you  think  the  aristocracy  ought  to 
be  rich?  It's  such  a  fine  institution." 

"I  hadn't  thought  about  it  from  that  point  of 
view,  though  I  gathered  the  other  day  that  you 
had.  I  don't  quite  see  how  you  get  at  the  fine- 
ness." 

"Why,  it  means  men  with  deep  roots  in  the 
ground,  right  down  through  hundreds  of  years. " 

"It  did  at  one  time.  They're  pulling  them  up 
now  and  throwing  them  on  the  rubbish-heap." 

"  If  they  had  an  aristocracy — a  real  one,  I  mean 
— in  America,  not  the  new  sort  they  are  making 
over  here,  they'd  be  very  proud  of  it. " 

"They'll  get  it  in  time;  they  are  longing  for  it. 
In  the  long  run,  though  a  man  may  not  get  his 
desire  a  people  does;  it's  the  great  adjustment  for 
individual  disappointments. " 

"I  don't  think  I  understand?" 

"It  doesn't  matter.  Let's  talk  of  ourselves,  a 
man  and  woman  generally  arrive  at  that  when 
they're  together.  I'm  glad  you  were  only  study- 
ing Kenton  as  a  curiosity  and  not  to  avoid  me." 

"I  never  avoid  a  friend." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  call  me  that." 

"Is  it  too  much?" 

94 


Gave  a  Party 

"It's  not  enough;  friendship  is  generally  as 
fatal  to  what  I  want  as  twilight  to  a  rainbow. " 

"Perhaps  you  want  the  impossible,"  she  said, 
half  in  fear  it  sounded.  "We  all  do.  Ibsen  knew 
that,  and  showed  us  what  came  of  it,  don't  you 
remember?" 

"I  want — "  his  voice  was  husky. 

"Don't  tell  me,"  she  interrupted,  while  a  little 
of  the  aloofness  that  had  been  in  her  manner  lately 
was  perceptible.  Then,  half-unconsciously,  she 
put  out  her  hand. 

He  took  it,  and  for  a  moment  she  did  not  draw  it 
away.  "You  know  what  I  want  to  say,"  he  went 
on,  "but  for  some  inscrutable  reason  of  your  own 
you  won't  let  me  speak." 

"I  am  thinking  so  much." 

He  lifted  his  cap  and  the  soft  winds  from  the 
sea  swept  over  his  head.  She  looked  up  at  him, 
and  a  smile  came  to  her  lips.  He  could  see  it 
plainly;  there  was  a  little  spice  of  tender  mischief 
in  it — the  smile  of  a  woman  who  was  with  the  man 
she  loved. 

"Do  you  know  what's  happening  to  you,  George 
Wendern?"  she  asked. 

"What?" 

"You  are  getting  grey." 

"Do  you  mind  it?" 

"I  like  it." 

"Like  it?" 

95 


George  Wendern 

"Why,  yes — grey  hair  and  wrinkles,  when 
they're  not  on  an  old  man,  say  so  much." 

"What  do  they  say?" 

"That  you've  lived — you've  felt  and  you've 
used  the  world.  I  love  to  see  it,"  the  last  words 
were  said  in  a  whisper,  almost  down  into  the  wall 
over  which  she  bent;  but  he  heard  them,  and  made 
a  little  movement  as  if  his  arm  were  going  round 
her.  She  drew  back  quickly,  her  manner  changed, 
a  low  laugh,  half-weary,  half-frightened,  came  from 
her. 

"Let  us  talk  about  the  dance  you  are  going  to 
give;  your  drawing-room  will  be  just  lovely  for 
it."  She  was  making  time;  but  it  was  not  for 
him  to  see  it. 

"Why  don't  you  and  your  mother  give  one?" 

"We  shouldn't  do  it  well — two  women  never  do 
things  well." 

"Neither  do  two  men — it  takes  a  man  and  a 
woman;  to  them  all  things  are  possible.  Do  you 
understand?"  he  drew  a  little  closer. 

"Why,  yes.  But  I  don't  want  to  understand 
anything  to-day,  only  just  to  take  in  what  a  good 
place  this  world  is  when  you've  not  lived  in  it  too 
long,  or  allowed  yourself  to  feel  too  much " 

"Too  much?" 

"It's  a  mistake  to  let  yourself  do  that,  Mr. 
Wendern.  Don't  you  think  so?" 

He  chafed  at  the  "Mr.  Wendern."  His  voice 
96 


Gave  a  Party 

was  impatient  as  he  answered,  "Usually  it  means 
being  blindfolded  and  running  a  race  to  heaven 
or  hell — you  don't  know  which  till  you  arrive,  for 
your  ticket  has  been  taken  by  the  other  person 
concerned—  '  he  stopped,  but  she  made  no  sign, 
"you  have  taken  mine,  you  know  it." 

"I  don't  know,  I  won't  let  myself  know  any- 
thing to-day. "  She  looked  out  towards  the  misty 
distance  again  as  if  she  were  trying  to  question 
it,  to  divine  what  lay  behind. 

"My  dear,"  he  could  hardly  hold  back  the  other 
words  that  rushed  to  his  lips,  "you  are  troubled?" 

"Oh  no,  not  troubled,  only  wondering — "  she 
stopped  as  if  afraid  of  saying  too  much. 

"Only  wondering?  I  know.  Katherine,  my 
dear,  let  me  speak." 

"You  must  wait,"  she  answered  desperately,  "I 
don't  want  you  to — to  say  things.  You  mustn't. 
I  feel  as  if  the  Fates  or  the  Immensities,  or  what- 
ever people  who  talk  that  way  call  them,  have 
taken  hold  of  me.  I  must  find  out  what  they  mean 
to  do." 

"You  are  talking  nonsense,  but  I  love  you — " 
he  held  her  to  him,  she  seemed  unable  to  resist. 
The  darkness  gathered  closer,  it  wrapped  them, 
the  road  was  deserted,  there  was  hardly  a  sound 
save  for  the  sea  whispering  up  to  them. 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't  say  it —  "  His  face  was  against 
97 


George  Wendern 

hers  but  she  averted  her  lips, — then  suddenly  for 
a  moment,  a  long  wonderful  moment,  she  gave 
them  to  him  and  drew  back  half  shuddering. 

He  was  triumphant  now,  he  felt  certain  of  her, 
"Why  not?"  he  asked. 

"You  mustn't,  till  I've  thought  it  all  out,  till 
I  know  myself — that  is  what  I  want  to  do,"  she 
said  passionately,  but  with  a  strange  determina- 
tion. "I  must  think  it  all  out  alone.  The  great 
things  of  life  have  to  be  thought  out  alone,  quite 
alone,"  her  voice  trembled,  her  hands  went  to  her 
eyes  as  if  to  force  back  the  tears;  but  the  next 
moment  she  looked  at  him  with  the  light  shining 
in  them.  The  determination  was  still  in  her  voice, 
but  she  seemed  to  be  forcing  it.  "Mother's  go- 
ing back  to  London  before  I  do.  When  I  come 
I  shall  know  myself.  But  listen,  whatever  way 
it  is,  I  want  you  to  believe  that  I've  tried  to  look 
at  things  right;1 — in  the  big  way,  not  just  the 
selfish  way." 

"Beloved,  what  are  you  thinking,  what  is  in 
your  heart — can't  you  tell  me?"  he  tried  to  hold 
her  again,  but  she  held  him  back. 

"It's  so  difficult,"  she  answered,  "I  expect 
Americans  often  get  hardly  judged,  anyway  they 
get  misunderstood.  English  people  can't  even 
guess  what  their  country  is  to  them,  the  raising 
of  ideals,  the  helping  to  give  it  new  forms  of  life, 

98 


Gave  a  Party 

the  longing  to  get  for  it  what  other  countries  prize 
most." 

"What  has  all  this  to  do  with  us?" 

"You'll  see — you'll  understand  when  we  talk 
it  all  out  together. " 

"Let  us  do  it  now." 

"No.  It  can't  be  done,  George" — she  said 
his  name  softly,  it  was  like  a  caress.  "I've  got 
to  think  first,  you  must  give  me  time  for  that. 
You'll  know  when  you  see  me  again.  Life  will 
be  marked  out  for  us  both  then." 

"Life  together,"  he  said,  "it  must  be  that — if 
it's  to  be  any  good  to  me. " 

"It  isn't  only  good  to  oneself  of  which  we  must 
think,  there  are  others  one  has  to  do  for," — she 
lifted  her  head  and  shook  it  as  if  to  change  the 
subject,  "Let  us  talk  of  the  dance." 

"Dance,"  he  said  impatiently,  "you  might  as 
well  ask  a  king  to  play  at  feather-blowing  on  the 
day  he  first  enters  into  his  kingdom — or  is  going 
out  of  it." 

"Well,  anyway,"  she  answered  with  a  change  of 
tone,  "it's  time  we  went  back.  They  will  be 
wondering  what  we  are  doing.  Let  us  go. "  They 
turned  away  and  walked  towards  Brighton  in 
silence;  she  seemed  to  be  lost  in  thought,  almost 
to  forget  him. 

"When  do  you  come  back?"  he  asked. 
99 


George  Wendern 

She  gave  a  little  start.  "Next  week.  I  think 
on  Wednesday " 

It  was  the  day  of  the  deputation ;  but  that  would 
be  over  in  the  morning,  he  reflected.  "It's  nearly 
a  week  off,  may  I  come  down  again?" 

"No."  She  held  out  her  hand  for  a  moment. 
"Don't  come,"  she  almost  entreated,  "I  must  be 
alone,  or  away  from  you,  at  any  rate  for  this  one 
week — then  I  shall  know  what  I  can  do — or  must 
do." 

He  looked  at  her  puzzled.     "Must  do?" 

"Must  do,"  she  repeated  with  a  catch  in  her 
breath.  "Say  you  won't  come,  you  won't  do 
anything. " 

He  gave  a  little  nod  in  acquiescence.  "But 
I  could  motor  down  when  you  are  ready  and  fetch 
you?" 

She  considered  a  minute.  "You  shall  have  a 
message,  but  you  mustn't  come  unless  I  tell  you. " 
She  went  a  step  forward,  then  with  a  sudden  change 
of  mood  looked  back  over  her  shoulder  and  laughed 
a  little.  "We  must  hurry,"  she  said,  "or  we  shall 
be  late  for  dinner,  and  the  Lough- Johnsons  will 
look  hungry.  They  do,  you  should  just  see  them. " 

They  went  on  to  the  balcony  for  a  minute 
before  he  left,  and  looked  down  at  the  motor  snort- 
ing by  the  curb. 

100 


Gave  a  Party 

"George  Wendern,"  she  said,  "all  dinner  time 
you  seemed  to  be  thinking  very  hard — what  was 
it  about?" 

His  voice  was  low  and  very  tender;  she  sighed 
as  if  she  thrilled  to  it;  "I  heard  you  say  again  *a 
thousand  miles  away' — would  you  go?" 

She  waited  a  moment  before  she  answered,  "I 
only  said  it  because  I  didn't  like  that  woman.  I 
love  this  England  and  all  its  traditions. " 

"Traditions  again,"  he  said. 

"Yes;  I  have  told  you  before  how  they  fas- 
cinate me  and  England's  oldness — its  beauty. 
I  don't  want  to  leave  it.  I  wish  I  had  been  born 
here  and  belonged  to  it.  It's  wonderful  to  me  that 
English  people  should  ever  try  to  imitate  us  over 
there,  or  any  people  in  the  world. " 

"You  want  to  live  here  always?" 

She  spoke  softly,  so  that  they  might  not  hear 
her  in  the  over-lighted  drawing-room  behind. 
"I  don't  know,"  she  seemed  afraid  of  her  own 
words,  "and  I  don't  want  to  go  on  with  this  talk; 
it's  time  for  you  to  go,  George  Wendern;  we've 
had  this  good  day — I  want  to  be  left  alone  to 
think  of  it. " 

He  flew  along  the  white  road;  there  was  a  moon, 
as  Mrs.  Fiflfer  had  remembered  there  would  be. 
The  way  was  very  still;  the  breath  of  the  summer 
night  was  sweet  and  warm,  it  brought  back  the 

101 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

touch  of  her  lips  a  few  hours  ago,  when  they  had 
stood  looking  over  the  wall  and  down  at  the  twi- 
light sea. 


102 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ljX)R  the  next  two  or  three  days  Wendern  was 
-•-  chiefly  occupied  with  the  Derryford  Dock 
case,  a  heavy'  mail,  endless  cables,  consultations 
with  lawyers,  and  the  fact  that  for  the  first  time 
he  was  face  to  face  with  the  necessity  for  money. 
The  lawsuit  was  expected  to  last  some  days,  but 
the  result  he  had  no  reason  to  doubt.  In  the 
natural  course  too,  other  things  were  bound  to  be 
adjusted,  for  he  had  many  resources,  though,  by 
a  crisis,  of  the  sort  that  overtakes  most  people  now 
and  then,  they  had  congested.  The  personal  in- 
convenience and  the  household  matters  were  too 
trivial  to  worry  him;  but  the  Syndicate  did,  for 
against  his  will  he  was  haunted  by  a  sense  that 
Lant,  whom  he  had  known  long  and  trusted,  was 
something  worse  than  a  speculator  with  a  dash 
that  passed  for  courage,  or  genius,  and  occasion- 
ally carried  all  before  it.  Joe  Parker's  attitude 
towards  Lant  added  to  his  uneasiness;  he  resented 
it,  for  Wendern  was  loyal  to  his  friends,  but  he 
knew  that  Parker  was  clear-sighted,  with  a  shrewd 
knowledge  of  men. 

"If    Lant's    an    intentional    scoundrel,"    he 
thought,  "there's  no  honour  left  for  honest  men 

103 


George  Wendern 

to  deal  with;  and  it's  not  to  be  filched  from  among 
thieves."  He  shrank  from  remembering  any 
generous  deeds  of  his  own;  he  had  always  care- 
lessly maintained  there  was  no  merit  in  doing  a 
right  thing,  nor  even  a  kind  one  (if  he  himself 
were  the  doer),  when  not  to  do  it  "would  be  more 
or  less  damnable."  But  he  remembered  a  time, 
years  ago,  when  he  had  cleared  Lant's  name  from 
an  unjust  suspicion,  and  Lant's  voice  saying, 
"You  have  proved  me  an  honest  man,  George,  and 
may  the  devil  stand  by  me  in  the  hour  I  die  if  I 
am  not  one — or  ever  cease  to  be  one."  Lant's 
sister,  a  girl  who  had  found  life  too  hard  to  do  with, 
was  lying  dead  in  the  shanty  she  had  made  into 
a  home;  he  had  stood  looking  down  at  her  white 
face  while  he  spoke.  The  next  day  the  two  men 
carried  her  to  a  lonely  grave  in  the  clearing. 
"She  cared  more  for  me  than  any  one  else  ever 
did  in  this  world,"  Lant  said,  "and  she  went  out 
of  it,  blessing  you  for  what  you'd  done  to  me. " 

"You  must  let  me  follow  it  up,"  Wendern  an- 
swered, and  this  had  been  the  root  of  Lant's 
prosperity. 

They  had  not  met  for  years,  not  till  Wendern 
came  to  London  a  stranger,  curious  careless  un- 
practical and  dreamy,  seeking  even  then  some 
meaning  of  a  problem  he  had  not  yet  recognised  to 
be  one.  Lant  had  changed,  not  for  the  better; 

104 


Gave  a  Party 

but  he  was  obviously  rich,  popular,  and  in  the 
swim  of  things.  The  rest  was  a  matter  of  drift- 
ing. "A  man  who  dropped  full-fledged  from  the 
clouds,  promptly  forgot  his  origin,  and  enjoyed 
the  snares  of  the  world,"  Lant  once  said  of  him, 
and  it  was  noticed  that  he  was  always  at  his  best 
with  him.  His  amusements  soon  palled  on  Wen- 
dern,  but  it  was  a  long  time  before  even  a  vague 
suspicion  of  Lant  occurred  to  him,  and  then  it 
was  promptly  dismissed;  some  things  were  too 
impossible  he  thought,  for  he  remembered  the  walk 
back  to  the  shanty  from  the  grave  that  nothing 
but  two  sticks  had  ever  marked.  "Besides, 
Truth  gets  the  upper  hand  occasionally,  even 
among  liars,"  he  added,  not  that  he  had  taken 
Lant  to  be  one — as  yet. 

Parker  looked  in  two  mornings  after  Wendern's 
visit  to  Brighton.  His  manner  was  embarrassed, 
he  hesitated,  and  seemed  to  have  something  up 
his  sleeve;  once  he  pulled  out  a  telegram,  looked 
at  it,  after  carefully  seeing  that  it  was  well  away 
from  Wendern's  line  of  sight,  and  then  smiled 
triumphantly  as  if  something  had  immensely 
pleased  him.  He  seemed  afraid  to  sit  down  lest 
he  should  be  drawn  into  a  conversation  he  wished 
to  avoid.  "I  only  looked  in  to  ask  if  Lant  had 
turned  up?"  he  explained. 

"No,  but  he  has  come  as  far  as  Paris." 
"He'd  better  come  as  far  as  England,  and  Lon- 
105 


George  Wendern 

don  at  that.     Have  you  been  getting  news  from 
home,  or  anywhere  near?" 

"More  than  enough  about  the  lawsuit;  it's 
down  for  hearing  next  week,"  Wendern  answered. 
There  was  a  pause  before  he  added,  "I've  been 
thinking  lately  about  Sandway  Strip. " 

"That's  curious.  What  have  you  been  think- 
ing, George?" 

"I  want  to  see  it — there  are  places  for  which 
one's  eyes  grow  hungry. " 

"Well,  there  isn't  much  to  be  said  for  it  in  the 
way  of  looks." 

"Somehow  it's  home." 

Then  Parker  made  what  he  considered  a  joke. 
"I  expect  it's  too  far  off  for  what  they  call  'week- 
ends' in  England?" 

"It  might  do  some  day  for  a  year-end — a  year- 
end  and  a  year-beginning." 

Parker  got  up  to  go.  "Pity  you  sold  the  rest," 
he  said.  "There's  that  ranch  beyond  the  creek, 
the  one  you  let  Tim  Bradley  have.  He's  in  a  big 
way  now;  he  made  thousands  over  the  trans- 
action. " 

"Luck  for  him,"  Wendern  answered  absently: 
there  was  another  pause.  Parker  went  a  step 
towards  the  door. 

"George,"  he  said  suddenly,  "you  and  I  have 
been  friends  for  pretty  long " 

"Pretty  long,"  Wendern  echoed. 
106 


Gave  a  Party 

"And  you'd  forgive  me  a  good  deal,  I  take  it — 
even  a  big  mistake,  if  I  was  to  make  one?" 

"  Anything.    But  what  the  deuce  do  you  mean  ? " 

"I'd  rather  you  didn't  ask.  I'll  tell  you  when 
I  know  for  certain. " 

Wendern  put  his  hand  on  Parker's  high  shoulder 
and  asked,  "Have  you  dined  at  the  Carlton 
lately?" 

"Well,  not  exactly  at  the  Carlton — there  are 
other  places,  not  bad  ones  either.  All  right  then, 
George,  I'll  go,  and  I  take  it  that  nothing  will 
make  a  break  between  us?"  With  which  enig- 
matical remark  he  departed. 

But  Wendern  had  no  time  for  Joe  Parker  and 
his  mystery.  Every  moment  wrested  from  the 
strident  complications  of  the  hour  he  gave  to  the 
woman  who  had  become  the  central  figure  of  his 
life.  In  some  strange  manner  he  felt  that  she  had 
pushed  him  aside  for  a  little  space,  not  because 
she  failed  him  at  heart,  but  because  some  obliga- 
tion, some  question  she  was  bound  to  recognise 
and  consider,  demanded  her  thoughts,  her  reason- 
ing and  pleading.  It  was  all  confused,  hidden, 
and  intangible  to  him,  but  it  was  evidently  real 
enough,  imperative  even,  to  her,  and  he  felt  bound 
to  respect  her  desire  to  be  given  over  to  it  till  she 
made  a  sign  and  sent  for  him.  He  knew  that  Mrs. 
Fiffer  was  back,  he  had  paced  the  green  lawn,  that 

107 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

was  neutral  ground  between  the  houses,  in  the 
soft  dark  hours  of  the  night  and  seen  the  light 
shining  from  her  window;  but  that  was  all.  The 
sycamore-tree  seemed  to  be  waiting,  as  he  was 
and  as  he  divined  Mrs.  Fiffer  to  be,  for  Katherine 
to  come  back. 


1 08 


CHAPTER  IX 

HE  was  right.     Mrs.  Fiffer  was  waiting  too, 
anxious   and   worried,   careful   not   to   see 
Wendern,  and  perplexed  at  the  manner  in  which 
Katherine  had  gently  but  firmly  hurried  her  away 
from  Brighton  the  morning  after  his  visit. 

"Can't  think  why  you  don't  want  me  to  stay 
any  longer,"  she  had  said.  "I  have  always  been 
fond  of  you."  The  voice  was  pathetic,  it  drew 
Katherine  to  her  side  and  two  arms  about  her 
neck. 

"Oh  mother,  mother  dear,  that  has  nothing 
to  do  with  it.  You  don't  understand.  Perhaps 
years  hence  I  shall  forget  as  you  do  now. " 

"Don't  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  it?" 

"I  want  to  be  alone  to  think  out  things." 

"  I  might  advise  you  a  bit.  You're  your  father's 
child,  you've  got  him  in  you,  and  I  knew  what  he 
wanted  well  enough." 

"But  mother,  dear,"  Katherine  said  passion- 
ately, "you  don't  know  what  I  want.  There  is 
new  life,  different  life,  in  my  heart,  born  since  he 
went." 

"I  know  what  he'd  want  you  to  do." 
109 


George  Wendern 

"Oh  yes,"  half  bitterly,  "and  I  know  what  you 
want  me  to  do.  For  you've  told  me  often  enough 
all  the  things  he  wanted  to  get,  not  because  they 
would  make  him  happier,  but  just  to  show  how 
much  money  he  had  made,  and  to  enable  him  to 
go  among  people  who  would  have  despised  him 
once — wouldn't  have  let  him  come  to  their  front 
doors,  mother  dear.  It's  lovely  to  be  rich,  I 
don't  believe  I  could  do  without  the  luxuries  now, 
but  money  takes  away  as  much  as  it  gives. " 

"It  seems  to  me  you're  talking  nonsense." 
But  Mrs.  Fiffer  thought  of  her  own  early  days, 
and  knew  that  it  was  true. 

"One  often  talks  nonsense  when  one's  aching; 
it's  one  of  the  straws  to  catch  at. " 

"Wish  I  knew  what  you'd  got  to  ache  about?" 

"It  hasn't  come  yet  into  words  that  can  be 
spoken;  but  I  know  all  you  did,  you  and  father, 
and  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  help  with  the  final  win- 
ning of  your  battle  with  fortune.  I  know  how  you 
worked  and  slaved  and  longed  over  there  in  our 
country,  and  how  you  thought  of  the  things  over 
here  in  this  one,  and  all  you  would  do  if  the  chance 
came  to  you.  He  left  the  chance  to  me. " 

"It  was  such  a  pity  he  never  came  over,"  Mrs. 
Fiffer  interposed  regretfully,  "he  used  to  count 
on  it  so,  you  can't  think;  and  he  would  have  made 
a  splash." 

no 


Gave  a  Party 

f 

"Oh,  yes,  we  always  make  a  splash."  Kath- 
arine shuddered. 

"You'll  do  it  for  him,"  her  mother  went  on, 
"and  better  than  he  would,  I  daresay;  for  you've 
had  more  education,  seen  more  than  he  ever  did. 
But  he  knew  what  he  wanted,  he  knew  and  just 
longed.  Central  Park  wasn't  good  enough,  nor 
anything  to  be  had  in  New  York. "  She  stopped 
for  a  moment.  "  He  wanted  to  be  a  somebody  in 
England,  and  he  had  the  means.  I  was  saying 
to  Lord  Derbyshire  the  other  day,  that  the  way 
things  were  divided  was  so  queer.  He  sat  and 
told  me  about  his  castle  and  the  places  he  has,  and 
how  they  were  just  decaying  for  want  of  money 
that  ought  to  be  spent  on  them." 

"He  doesn't  value  them  or  know  how  to  treat 
them,"  there  was  bitterness  in  Katherine's  voice. 

"I  daresay,  but  I  know  this,  when  he  told  me, 
with  that  funny  little  laugh  of  his,  how  he'd  got 
everything  except  money,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  look- 
ing at  a  picture-book,  I  could  see  so  plainly  how 
it  might  all  be.  It  would  be  a  fine  thing  to 
make  everything  right. " 

"We  might  buy  his  castle  and  all  he  has;  for 
the  chief  thing  that  is  wrong  about  his  property 
is  that  he  is  there  in  the  middle  of  it. " 

"Well,  we  wouldn't  be  right  in  it  either — alone. 
Why,  we'd  just  be  ridiculous,  as  lots  of  people 

ill 


George  Wendern 

are  in  this  country  who  take  on  the  things  they've 
never  been  used  to.     I've  often  thought  it.     You 
often  say  that  England  is  old.     The  finest  things 
in  it  are  old,  and  new  names  and  new  people  don't 
match  them — they  never  look  right  somehow. " 
"It's  true — you  are  quite  right,  mother." 
"Of  course,  if  Lord  Derbyshire  married  some- 
one with  money  to  set  it  all  right — why,  that  would 
be  another  thing. " 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Then  Katherine  kissed 
her.  "Go  back  to  London,  mother  dear,"  she 
said,  "and  leave  me  to  think  it  all  over." 

"Won't  it  worry  you  staying  here  with  the 
Lough- Johnsons  about?  You  never  cared  for 
them  much." 

"It  doesn't  matter,  they  won't  ask  questions." 
"Well,  you'd  be  better  for  some  advice. " 
"I'm  going  to  get  it — from  the  sea,  and  the 
wind  that  sweeps  over  it,  and  the  green  downs 
that  go  waving  along  into  the  distance  by  the  road 
to  Rottingdean,  from  the  sky  when  it's  grey  and 
blue  and  dark,  and  the  stars  that  look  through  it 
at  night.     They'll  all  tell  me  what  I  must  do; 
that's  why  I  want  to  stay. " 

"I  don't  know  where  you  get  your  fine  talk 
from,"  Mrs.  Fiffer  said  wonderingly;  "for  that 
isn't  like  your  father. " 

She  looked  out  of  the  carriage  window  as  she 
112 


Gave  a  Party 

journeyed  up  to  London — at  the  green  fields  and 
the  trees,  at  all  the  comfortable  adjuncts  of  the 
English  landscape,  "I  can't  help  it,"  she  thought, 
"but  I'd  like  Katherine  to  be  a  somebody,  she 
is  made  for  it,  she  ought  to  be.  I  can't  think  why 
these  American  girls  who  come  over  here  get  made 
duchesses,  while  Katherine  isn't  one.  She  would 
look  just  right.  Why,  to  see  her  walk  across  the 
lawn  makes  you  think  she  is  on  her  way  to  have  a 
crown  put  on  her  head.  I  want  her  to  marry 
someone  she  cares  for,  as  I  did  for  her  father, 
but  I  want  her  to  be  a  somebody  too.  If  Mr. 
Wendern  had  been  a  duke,  that's  what  I  should 
like.  But  I  don't  see  what  good  it  would  be  if 
she  married  an  Australian,  it  wouldn't  help  her 
up  a  bit." 

Two  or  three  restless  days  went  by,  she  was 
denied  to  all  visitors,  she  didn't  want  them;  she 
never  knew  what  to  say  to  English  people  who 
came  in  their  smart  dresses,  looking  as  if  they'd 
lived  in  them  all  their  lives,  and  sat  and  made  talk 
while  they  seemed  to  be  wondering  what  she  had 
a-year,  and  how  much  of  it  they  could  turn  to 
their  own  amusement.  If  Katherine  settled  down 
in  England  she  meant,  when  she  had  seen  her  in 
the  surroundings  she  wanted  for  her,  but  not  for 
herself,  to  go  back  to  the  life  she  loved  best  and 
the  people  she  understood. 

113 


CHAPTER  X 

WEDNESDAY  came  at  last.    The  two  days 
since    she  had  left   Brighton  seemed   to 
have  drawn  themselves  out  to  their  longest. 

"Probably  I'll  hear  this  morning,  she'll  tell  me 
the  time  she  is  coming,"  Mrs.  Fiffer  thought  as 
she  went  down  to  her  early  breakfast,  for  she  never 
dreamt  of  keeping  the  lazy  hours  of  the  set  she  was 
in,  "in — but  not  of,"  as  she  once  heard  someone 
say  of  another  woman.  She  knew  quite  well  that 
the  description  was  applied  to  her  too.  "Doesn't 
matter,"  she  had  thought  at  the  time,  "I've  got 
money;  that  makes  them  all  right  to  me  on  the 
outside,  and  what  they're  like  on  the  inside 
doesn't  matter  a  brass  monkey."  She  was  dis- 
turbed at  not  finding  a  letter.  Katherine  had 
not  written  since  Saturday. 

Wendern  was  conscious  the  moment  he  awoke 
that  it  was  the  day  of  Katherine's  return.  He 
got  up  early  and  went  for  his  usual  ride  in  the  Park. 

It  was  the  morning,  too,  that  the  deputation 
was  to  come  to  his  office.  But  Lant  had  not 
arrived.  No  letter  and  no  telegram.  He  was 
growing  desperate.  Luckily  the  Derryford  law- 

114 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

suit  was  going  ahead,  it  had  begun  on  Monday, 
two  days  ago,  and  was  likely  to  outlast  the  week. 
He  had  a  cable  each  completed  day,  and  things 
looked  well.  With  the  verdict  in  his  favour  he 
could  shake  off  money  difficulties  and  if  Katherine 
were  his  there  would  be  nothing  in  the  world  left 
to  wish  for,  unless  it  were  that  she  consented  to 
let  him  take  her  away  to  the  other  side  of  the  world 
to  another  order  of  things — for  half  the  year  at 
any  rate.  This  hurrying,  struggling  London  was 
not  good  enough;  for  the  hurry  and  struggle  was 
not  for  life  or  sustenance,  nor  only  for  fortune,  for 
it  often  did  not  cease  when  that  was  attained,  so 
much  as  for  some  intangible  betterment  of  posi- 
tion; at  least  it  was  so  in  the  set  he  knew  best. 
In  the  colonies  and  in  America  the  unspoken, 
often  unacknowledged,  ambition  of  the  men  was 
the  upraising  of  their  country,  to  see  it  rank 
among  the  great  nations  of  the  earth,  not  for 
its  size  and  population  only,  but  for  its  achieve- 
ments in  those  directions  that  counted  among 
the  highest. 

Here  they  seemed  to  have  smaller,  more  in- 
dividual longings,  and  to  put  too  great  a  value  on 
ease  and  comfort.  The  women  sometimes  did 
this  in  the  New  World;  but  the  men  did  not,  in 
the  working  time  at  any  rate.  He  thought  of  the 
faces  he  had  seen  during  the  short  stay  he  had  once 

"5 


George  Wendern 

made  in  the  States — faces  with  deep  lines  that  told 
of  hard  work  and  concentration  on  the  difficulties 
and  anxieties  of  business.  The  necessity  of  keep- 
ing the  women  they  loved  and  the  memory  of 
home  ties  out  of  their  thoughts  during  the  strenu- 
ous hours  of  the  day  had  told  on  them,  it  had  dead- 
ened the  fire  of  passion,  such  as  he  had  seen  written 
on  the  faces  in  Southern  Europe,  even  some  of  the 
divinity  of  love,  leaving  only  a  tired  tenderness,  a 
rootless  generosity  for  their  belongings  to  soften  the 
money-making  fight;  but  at  the  back  of  their  fierce 
endeavour  he  had  felt  that  there  was  not  only  the 
struggle  for  individual  wealth  and  position,  there 
was  a  dogged  determination  to  pull  their  country 
up  to  the  high  plane  of  thought  and  capacity  and 
achievement.  In  this  lay  the  main  difference  be- 
tween the  people  of  the  Old  and  New  Worlds.  In 
England  they  rested  overmuch  on  their  tradi- 
tions, satisfied  with  what  they  had  been,  confident 
in  the  vitality  of  their  fading  laurels  to  blind  the 
nations,  no  less  than  themselves,  to  the  weakness 
of  what  they  had  become.  Men  and  women  alike, 
after  the  acquirement  of  money,  had  only  the 
petty  ambition  of  place  and  social  advancement 
that  was  not  worth  having,  and  desire  for  pleasure 
that  proved  itself  Dead  Sea  fruit.  "Not  good 
enough  to  satisfy  the  heart  and  soul  of  man,"  he 
said  to  himself.  But  he  had  been  dazed  with  the 

116 


Gave  a  Party 

whole  standpoint  since  he  saw  it  clearly,  dissatisfied 
above  all  with  the  part  he  had  hitherto  played  in 
life,  for  though  he  belonged  to  the  New  World  he 
had  done  nothing  to  justify  his  existence  there,  any 
more  than  in  England.  He  had  to  think  it  all  out 
to  discover  the  right  road,  now  that  he  realised  he 
had  been  "lost  in  the  wood  of  the  world"  and  to 
be  sure  that  it  was  the  one  he  desired  before  he 
set  out  on  it.  But  first,  and  above  all,  he  had  to 
smooth  "away  the  present  difficulties — temporary 
ones,  they  seemed  to  him,  not  worth  worrying 
about — and  to  win  the  woman  he  loved. 

Back  to  breakfast.  He  had  seen  nothing  of 
Mrs.  Berwick  as  yet.  She  was  a  tactful  creature, 
he  told  himself  for  the  hundredth  time,  and  al- 
ways kept  out  of  the  way  when  she  was  not 
wanted.  He  looked  eagerly  through  his  letters. 
None  from  Katherine;  he  had  hardly  expected 
it;  yet  he  himself  had  not  been  able  to  bear  the 
silence  of  the  days,  nearly  a  week,  without  making 
a  sign.  Yesterday  he  had  sent  her  a  little  note : — 

The  time  is  very  long,  and  I  am  counting  the  hours. — G. 

But  he  had  no  time  to  think  even  of  her.  He 
forced  his  thoughts  on  to  the  deputation  and  the 
points  to  be  made.  He  couldn't  understand  Lant 
not  writing,  nor  why  he  lingered  in  Paris.  He 
determined  to  send  a  telegram  at  once,  and  sat 

"7 


George  Wendern 

down  to  write  it  at  Mrs.  Berwick's  table.  A  fan 
was  beside  the  blotting-book,  it  was  evidently  new. 
"Joe,  of  course,"  he  said  to  himself.  "She  must 
have  asked  him  for  it  and  gone  with  him  to  choose 
it,  for  he  would  have  known  better  how  to  buy  a 
hatchet."  He  stopped  a  moment  to  consider 
Mrs.  Berwick  and  her  possible  future,  "It  will 
be  a  solution  of  her  difficulties  if  Joe  marries  her; 
I  expect  she  has  a  battle  to  fight,  and  few  instru- 
ments to  do  it  with — and  he  might  do  worse." 
Then  the  telegram: — 

Stormy  deputation  expected  this  morning,  wire  to  office. 
Very  urgent.  State  when  coming. 

An  hour  to  spare.  He  was  in  no  humour  for 
Mrs.  Berwick  and  her  civilities,  and  luckily  she 
was  still  invisible,  but  he  couldn't  shake  off  the 
desperate  longing  for  news  of  Katherine;  to  be 
certain  that  she  was  coming,  to  know  her  train. 
It  might  be  possible  to  meet  her.  He  went  out 
to  the  garden,  hesitated  a  moment,  and  crossed  the 
lawn. 

Mrs.  FifFer  was  sitting  by  the  window  on  the 
ground-floor  of  her  house;  she  came  out  when 
she  saw  him  and  stood  leaning  over  the  wire  fence 
to  talk  to  him.  "It's  so  queer  of  Katherine  not 
to  write,  why  she  has  generally  sent  me  a  letter 
every  morning  when  she  has  been  away  before, " 

118 


Gave  a  Party 

she  said.     "But  perhaps  I  shall  get  a  telegram 
by-and-bye. " 

"I  daresay,"  he  spoke  in  his  usual  careless  man- 
ner and  without  a  sign  of  the  agitation  in  his  heart. 
"I  wonder  if  you  would  telephone  through  to  me 
at  the  office  if  you  hear  from  her — it's  always 
pleasant  to  know  at  what  time  a  good  thing  is 
going  to  happen."  He  considered  for  a  moment; 
the  deputation  was  to  come  at  eleven  and  would 
soon  be  over.  "I  wonder  if  I  might  run  down 
and  fetch  her?"  he  suggested  doubtfully,  for  he 
felt  there  was  some  obstacle  in  the  way  of  his 
desire.  "It's  an  easy  run;  I  might  telegraph  that 
I  would  be  there  this  afternoon.  We  should  get 
back  here  in  time  for  dinner. " 

"Well  now,  Mr.  Wendern,  it's  no  good  not 
speaking  plainly,  is  it?  And  I  think,  on  the 
whole,  I  would  rather  you  didn't  go " 

"Why?" 

"I  would  rather  you  didn't,"  Mrs.  Fiffer  an- 
swered firmly. 

"Anyhow,"  he  told  himself  as  he  walked  back 
to  the  house,  "I  must  give  up  thinking  about  her 
or  anything  else  outside  the  office  for  the  next 
few  hours.  Many  people  are  concerned  with  this 
Syndicate;  only  one  man  and  one  woman  in  the 
complication  that  has  laid  hold  of  me — and  the 
majority  wins. " 

119 


CHAPTER  XI 

"TS  there  a  telegram?" 
A     "No,  sir — these  are  all  the  letters." 

"I  thought  there  would  have  been  something 
from  Lant."  This  was  at  the  office  in  Great  St. 
Helen's. 

"Nothing  has  come,  sir,"  Dawson  was  nervous 
and  fussy;  his  belief  in  Wendern  held  good,  still 
he  thought  it  well  to  hazard  a  remark  or  two. 
"Things  seem  a  little  ticklish,"  he  said;  "we've 
had  three  or  four  shareholders  in  this  morning 
already,  asking  about  prospects.  You  see,  they've 
been  a  good  deal  upset  with  that  circular.  If  we 
don't  mind  we  shall  have  them  all  down  on  us  in 
a  heap." 

"A  few  of  them  are  probably  trying  to  create  a 
slump  as  a  preface  to  a  boom." 

Dawson's  face  brightened.  "I  didn't  think  of 
that,"  he  said. 

"It's  a  well-worn  dodge." 

"It's  a  pity  Mr.  Lant  isn't  here  for  the  deputa- 
tion, or  that  he  doesn't  do  something. " 

"He  will.     I  wired  to  him  a  couple  of  hours  ago. 
1 20 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

Probably  we  shall  hear  from  him  this  morning. 
He  is  in  Paris.  The  answer  ought  to  have  been 
here  already. " 

"He  mightn't  have  been  up,  sir." 

"He  mightn't  have  been  up — he  is  an  easy- 
going man. " 

The  deputation  arrived  punctually  at  eleven. 
A  queer  set  of  men.  A  little  amusement,  tempered 
by  surprise,  came  into  Wendern's  eyes  as  they 
entered.  Foremost  was  Digby,  with  his  head 
thrown  back,  red-faced  and  thick-set.  Carefully 
keeping  beside  him  was  a  weedy,  large-boned  man, 
obviously  a  Jew;  next  to  him  a  dissipated-look- 
ing man  of  thirty,  who  appeared  to  belong  to  a 
better  class  than  most  of  the  others;  in  the  midst 
of  the  group  a  youth  on  crutches,  he  was  about 
two-and-twenty,  and  had  a  pale  face  with  an 
eager  smile.  The  others  seemed  anxious,  awk- 
ward, or  half-reluctant,  as  might  be;  in  the  rear 
was  a  parson. 

Wendern  crossed  over  from  the  fireplace  to  his 
table.  "Good  morning,  gentlemen,  we  are  not 
accustomed  to  so  large  a  party.  I  don't  know 
if  we  have  enough  chairs  to  accommodate  you. " 
He  turned  politely  to  Digby,  "I'm  sorry  you  had 
the  trouble  of  coming  the  other  day. " 

But  Digby  was  determined  to  show  at  the  out- 
set that  he  meant  to  fight.  "I'm  not  likely  to 

121 


George  Wendern 

shirk  taking  trouble  in  this  affair,  as  you  will  soon 
find  out,"  he  said. 

"Quite  right.  And  this,  I  think,  must  be  Mr. 
Lazarus  ? " 

"That's  my  name,"  the  Jew  answered. 

"And  this  is  Mr.  Shaw?"  Digby  indicated  a 
tall,  loosely  knit  man  who  pushed  forward  from 
beside  the  parson. 

"That's — Shaw,"  he  said  briskly;  he  looked 
intelligent. 

"Ah!  Good  morning,  Mr.  Shaw.  And  the 
others — but  I  have  the  list."  Wendern  looked 
at  the  paper  in  his  hand.  "I  take  it  that  you  are 
all  here?"  He  covered  them  with  a  look.  "And 
I  understand,  gentlemen,  that  you  want  to  speak 
to  me  about  this  Syndicate?" 

"Yes,  we  do,"  Digby  answered  quickly.  "There 
are  only  eight  of  us,  but  sixteen  might  easily 
have  come.  We  represent  some  of  those  who 
are  thoroughly  dissatisfied  with  the  Report, 
with  everything  we  know  about  the  Syndicate — I 
haven't  come  across  any  who  are  pleased,"  he 
added  disagreeably.  "Of  course  you've  heard 
that  we  thought  it  right  to  circularise  the  share- 
holders; they're  wide  awake  by  this  time." 

"Quite  right  again.  One  should  always  be 
wide  awake  in  business  matters.  What  is  it  you 
want  me  to  do,  gentlemen?" 

122 


Gave  a  Party 

Digby  barked,  "We  are  going  to  speak 
plainly- 

" By  all  means." 

"They  are  saying  precious  shady  things  about 
this  Syndicate  in  the  City,  and  unless  it  goes  right 
we  mean  to  make  it  pretty  hot  for  you. " 

"Then  it's  as  well  to  be  on  the  shady  side?" 
Wendern  gave  them  a  weary  little  smile:  two 
men  who,  now  that  they  saw  him  face  to  face, 
found  it  impossible  to  think  him  a  swindler, 
smiled  back. 

"We  have  not  come  here  to  joke, "  Digby  barked 
again.  "Perhaps  you  would  like  to  know  what 
they  do  say  ?  In  fact  it's  just  as  well  you  should. " 

"I'm  not  curious;  but  if  it  would  give  you  any 
satisfaction  to  repeat  it,  why,  of  course — "  with 
a  little  shrug. 

"We  hear  that  Bangor  was  a  figurehead;  that 
Lant  got  the  estates  for  nothing,  and  they  're  worth 
nothing, — for  all  we  know,  there  mayn't  be  any 
estates  at  all." 

Wendern  went  back  to  the  fireplace  and  looked 
at  the  map  hanging  over  it.  One  or  two  of  the 
men  followed  him  and  studied  it  for  a  moment. 

"That  is  the  map,"  he  said.  "You  can  see  the 
various  roads  on  it,  and  the  railway  running  down 
to  the  coast  is  marked  out.  I  don't  know  if  it's 
finished  yet,  but  it's  in  the  making, — things  are 

123 


George  Wendern 

not  done  in  a  day,  gentlemen.  I  put  in  £20,000 
myself " 

"But  the  Syndicate  found  the  rest — we  put  in 
the  rest,"  Digby  interrupted.  "What's  become 
of  it  ?  That's  what  we  want  to  know. " 

"The  Report  has  already  informed  you  that  a 
certain  amount  was  held  back  for  office  expenses 
here,  the  rest  was  sent  out  for  working  expenses 
there.  Mr.  Lant  is  Managing  Director " 

"And  the  Chairman,  what  about  him?  He's 
a  lord;  but  what  else  does  he  do?  Does  he  know 
anything  about  the  Syndicate,  or  is  he  a  guinea- 
pig,  who  takes  fees  for  lending  his  name?  There 
are  plenty  of  them  now-a-days  who  do  that. " 

"Frankly,  I  don't  know  him — nor  any  of  the 
Australian  directors  except  Lant.  The  Chairman 
is  out  there. " 

"Well,  I  looked  him  up  over  here.  His  place 
is  in  the  market  and  he  divorced  his  wife,  or  she 
divorced  him.  I  suppose  he  went  over  there  to 
get  out  of  the  way. " 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,  Mr.  Wendern,  that  you 
don't  know  any  of  the  men  on  this  Board?"  the 
parson  asked. 

"There  are  two  names  that  I'm  told  represent 
successful  men  of  business — Golbreath  is  one,  and 
the  other  is  Clayton — Franklin  Clayton — who 
gave  £15,000  to  an  educational  scheme  in  Sydney 

124 


Gave  a  Party 

ten  years  ago.  These  two  would  hardly  have  ap- 
peared on  the  prospectus,  or  at  any  rate  remained 
on  the  Board,  if  they'd  not  been  satisfied " 

"Well,  we're  not  satisfied,"  Digby  blustered. 
"Then  there's  this  Lord  Derbyshire  on  the  Board 
this  side.  Do  you  know  him?  and  if  so,  what's 
the  good  of  him?" 

"Yes,  I  know  him,  but  I'm  not  responsible  for 
him.  Mr.  Lant,  who  invited  him  to  become  a 
director,  will,  no  doubt,  be  able  to  reassure  you 
on  all  these  points  when  he  arrives."  Wendern's 
voice  suggested  that  he  had  nothing  more  to  say. 

"  But  we've  come  to  ask  you  questions,  and  we 
expect  them  answered,"  Digby  insisted.  "Our 
money  has  been  lying  idle  for  a  couple  of  years, 
or  it  has  fallen  into  pockets  that  are  not  ours. 
We  can't  get  hold  of  the  men  out  there,  and  we 
don't  know  anything  about  this  Lord  Derbyshire 
over  here.  You're  the  London  Managing  Direc- 
tor. We  took  you  to  be  straight — "  he  stopped, 
for  he  suddenly  realised  that  this  leisurely  polite 
gentleman  might  not  be  as  easy-going  as  he  seemed. 
He  added  in  a  different  voice,  "And  I  suppose  you 
take  your  fees?" 

"As  it  happens,"  Wendern  said  quietly,  "I've 
not  taken  any  fees.  I  want  you  to  understand 
that  Mr.  Lant  will  be  in  England  immediately. 
In  fact  I  expected  him  in  time  for  this  meeting." 

125 


George  Wendern 

"I  shall  tell  him  I  want  my  £2,000  back," 
the  Jew  whined.  "Every  penny  of  it  was  made  in 
good  honest  trade.  I  should  never  hold  up  my 
head  again  if  I  lost  it. " 

"You  expected  a  large  profit — five-and-twenty 
per  cent  perhaps?" 

"I  expected  to  make  five-and-fifty  per  cent, 
five  hundred  and  fifty  per  cent " 

"You  should  also  have  expected  to  lose,"  Wend- 
ern answered  coolly.  "A  man  who  expects  to 
make  five-and-twenty  per  cent,  much  less  five- 
and-fifty,  is  a  fool,  if  you'll  forgive  my  candour, 
unless  he  is  prepared  to  lose.  Things  that  are 
absolutely  safe  bring  in  three  and  a  half  per  cent, 
or  even  less,  as  you  know  well  enough.  What 
have  you  to  say?"  he  turned  suddenly  to  a  good- 
looking  young  man  whom  he  had  identified  as 
Bennett. 

"What  I  have  to  say  is  this,  sir.  I  had  a  thou- 
sand pounds  and  was  engaged  to  be  married. 
The  prospectus  of  this  Syndicate  looked  fair 
enough,  seemed  better  than  insuring  my  life.  I 
thought  you  yourself  wouldn't  back  a  thing  you 
didn't  know  to  be  good;  I'd  heard  about  you  from 
a  friend  who  knew  Lant,  and  between  the  two  I 
took  it  that  the  Syndicate  was  safe. " 

"I  believed  it  to  be  safe." 

"One  should  do  more  than  believe  when  one 
126 


Gave  a  Party 

uses  other  people's  money — one  should  know," 
there  was  nothing  offensive  in  the  voice. 

"You  are  quite  right,"  Wendern  answered 
quickly,  "I  did  know,  I  do.  Well,  and  why  did 
you  come  in — you,  my  friend?"  he  was  speaking 
to  the  cripple. 

"I  put  in  the  £500  I  got  for  these,"  indicating 
the  crutches.  "Accident  on  railway — compensa- 
tion— I  expected  to  get  a  little  income  out  of  it. " 

"Poor  chap,  it'll  be  all  right."  He  looked  at 
another  youth,  he  was  called  Dobson,  "and  you, 
you  are  young — too  young  to  speculate  in  syndi- 
cates. Are  you  rich?" 

The  answer  came  with  a  nervous  laugh.  "Rich — 
I  rich !  Mother  asked  my  advice.  She  got  ^500 
from  the  insurance  when  father  died  and  I  got 
£500  when  I  came  of  age  last  year;  grandfather 
left  it.  Mr.  Lant  used  to  come  to  the  office,  knew 
my  governors,  he  seemed  to  be  all  right  and  I  was 
always  seeing  your  name  in  the  papers.  I  thought 
if  it  paid  ten  per  cent  it  would  be  £100  a-year  for 
her,  or  anyhow  we  could  take  the  capital  out  when 
the  shares  were  worth  double. " 

"Ah,  you  ought  to  have  known  better. — And 
you,  reverend  sir?"  This  to  the  parson  who  was 
trying  to  maintain  the  dignity  of  his  cloth  as  well 
as  he  could  in  the  office  of  a  Syndicate  which  he  had 
been  recently  told  was  a  wild-cat  scheme,  "have 
you  much  money  in  this  concern?" 

127 


George  Wendern 

"Two  thousand  pounds,"  came  the  severe  an- 
swer. "You  probably  remember  meeting  me  at 
luncheon  a  year  ago  at  Sir  John  Carneford's? 
Carneford  Manor  is  twelve  miles  from  my  living 
in  the  country." 

"No,  I  don't  remember.     I  am  sorry." 

The  voice  that  answered  was  grave  and  meas- 
ured. "We  had  some  talk  that  day,  and  I  took 
you  to  be  an  honourable  man. "  Wendern  looked 
up,  but  it  had  no  effect.  "A  month  later  I  saw  you 
were  Managing  Director  over  here  of  this  Syndi- 
cate, and  that  Mr.  Lant  held  the  same  position 
in  Australia.  I  had  often  met  him  when  we  were 
in  London;  he  came  to  see  my  little  son  and  most 
kindly  took  us  all  to  the  Hippodrome.  I  imagined 
that  the  affair  was  sound  in  every  way,  and  that  I 
might  provide  for  my  children  more  adequately 
than  by  investing  the  £2,000  in  the  usual  securi- 
ties. I  was  told  I  should  double  my  capital.  Sir 
John  Carneford  thought  so  too,  and  advised  me 
to  do  it;  he  put  in  £1,000  himself " 

"All  very  well  for  Sir  John  Carneford,  but 
capital  is  seldom  doubled  without  risk,  and  risk 
of  this  sort  is  not  good  for  men  in  your  profession. " 

Digby  saw  his  chance.  "Look  here,  Mr.  Wen- 
dern, this  deputation  has  come  to  find  out  where 
the  money  is,  not  to  be  told  what  it  ought  to  have 
done  with  it.  We  know  that  by  this  time.  I  call 

it  a  piece  of  impudence " 

128 


Gave  a  Party 

"You  will  be  good  enough  to  be  silent,"  Wen- 
dern  said  firmly. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  risk  of  this  sort?"  Ben- 
nett asked  him. 

"I  mean  that  these  Estates  were  bought  for 
development  on  the  chance  of  their  proving  to 
be  worth  much  more  than  was  paid  for  them;  and 
whether  they  were  or  not  was  the  risk."  He 
looked  across  at  the  apparently  well-bred  man, 
"What  is  your  holding?"  he  asked. 

"Same  as  the  parson,  a  couple  of  thouV 

"What  made  you  risk  it?" 

"I  met  Lant  at  Ascot,  he  was  there  with  Derby- 
shire, who  said  he  was  in  it.  I  had  precious  bad 
luck,  every  horse  I'd  touched;  thought  I  might 
pick  up  over  this.  Derbyshire  said  he  thought  so 
too.  If  the  cash  is  gone  I  shall  be  done  for. " 

"I  see.  You  were  none  of  you  fit  people  to 
have  the  control  of  money. " 

"When  you've  done  treating  us  as  school- 
boys— "  Digby  was  speaking  again,  but  he  seemed 
to  have  exhausted  himself. 

"It  is  not  your  business  whether  we  are  fit  or 
unfit,  Mr.  Wendern,  but — "  the  parson  began  and 
hesitated,  not  knowing  how  to  go  on. 

"And  you  know,  hang  it,  as  Digby  says,  we 
didn't  come  to  be  asked  questions  but  to  ask 
them  ourselves,"  put  in  a  man  at  the  back. 

129 


George  Wendern 

"What  is  the  blessed  Syndicate  actually  do- 
ing?" Shaw  enquired.  "That's  what  we  want  to 
know;  not  to  be  disagreeable;  we  didn't  come  for 
that,  at  least  I  didn't." 

"The  last  Report  has  told  you,  I  have  no 
later  information." 

"But,  my  dear  sir,"  the  manner  was  courte- 
ous, "you  are  Managing  Director,  and  surely  it 
is  your  business  to  have  information." 

"No;  only  to  see  that  when  it  comes  it  is  duly 
circulated  among  the  shareholders." 

"Well,  but  who  looks  after  the  business?" 

"The  Managing  Director  over  there — Mr. 
Christopher  Lant,  the  working  manager  ap- 
pointed under  him,  and  the  rest  of  the  staff,  of 
course,  with  the  knowledge  and  approval  of  the 
Directors. " 

"But  you're  on  the  Board." 

"Yes,  and  my  part  is  to  manage  the  business 
here,  but  the  movements  of  the  Syndicate  are 
naturally  there,  where  its  property  lies. " 

"You  vouch  for  the  property  being  there,  and 
for  its  value?" 

"No;  only  for  my  belief  that  it  is  there." 

"But  why  did  you  join  the  Board  unless  you 
knew  a  good  deal  more  than  you  appear  to  do?" 

"I  knew  Christopher  Lant  in  the  Colonies,  and 
had  no  reason  to  think  him  anything  but  an  honest 

130 


Gave  a  Party 

man,  who  had  made  a  large  fortune  by  his  business 
dealings.  He  brought  forward  this  Syndicate  and 
the  working  scheme.  He  told  me  that  he  had  put 
in  £50,000  himself,  and  asked  me  to  go  into  it — 
I  put  in  £20,000 " 

"Fools  and  their  money — "  Digby  began  in- 
solently, but  he  was  silenced  by  a  look. 

"I  read  the  prospectus  as  you  presumably  did, 
and  the  report  of  the  Surveyor  and  Engineer  em- 
ployed to  examine  the  Estates.  I  have  never  been 
to  the  district  in  which  they  are  situated;  but  I 
had  heard  of  its  resources  and  imagined — a  con- 
clusion based  on  the  reports  I  have  named — that 
these  resources  also  belonged  to  the  Bangor 
Estates.  I  felt  justified  in  risking  my  own 
money,  and,  though  I  asked  no  one  else  to  do  so, 
I  saw  no  reason  to  prevent  other  people  from  risk- 
ing theirs.  Developments  of  large  estates  are  not 
executed  in  a  day." 

"You  see  all  we  know  about  this  Syndicate  is 
what  you  two  men  have  chosen1  to  tell  us,"  Shaw 
said. 

Wendern  gave  a  shrug.  "Men  are  hanged  or 
saved  on  the  evidence  of  their  fellow-men ' 

"Not  at  second-hand — for  you  haven't  even  seen 
the  place — seen  nothing  in  fact,  but  Lant  and  the 
prospectus. " 

"Our  reverend  friend  here  who  preaches  salva- 


George  Wendern 

tion,"  Wendern  nodded  at  the  parson,  "hasn't 
seen  Heaven,  only  read  about  it. " 

"My  dear  sir — "  the  reverend  gentleman  was 
shocked. 

"I'm  simply  trying  to  prove,"  Wendern  ex- 
plained, "that  the  world  couldn't  go  on  if  we 
didn't  trust  men  whom  we  have  no  reason  to  be- 
lieve are  liars  and  scoundrels." 

Digby,  at  a  loss  what  to  do  in  face  of  Wendern's 
manner,  muttered,  "I  don't  care  if  it  costs  me 
£5,000,  I'll  make  it  hot  for  you  all  if  my  £500  is 
lost." 

"Lost!  If  our  money  is  lost  it  would  break  my 
wife's  heart," — the  parson  said  it  to  himself,  but 
Wendern  heard.  The  words  were  like  a  lash. 

"I'd  rather  drown  than  tell  mother  if  her 
money's  gone,"  the  young  man  put  in  piteously. 

"You  were  none  of  you,  as  I  said  just  now,  fit 
people  to  speculate  in  a  concern  of  this  sort," 
Wendern  repeated,  but  there  was  something  in  his 
voice  that  reassured  the  anxious  ones.  "The 
issue  was  altogether  too  important  to  you,  and 
should  have  been  left  to  richer  men.  Luckily  there 
is  no  reason  yet  to  think  this  Syndicate  a  swindle, 
as  such  things  often  are,  though  the  Estates  may 
turn  out  ill  or  well.  In  any  case  the  losses  will 
not  be  very  great,  for  the  largest  shareholder, 
after  Mr.  Lant  and  myself,  only  stands  to  lose 

132 


Gave  a  Party 

£3,000.  There  are  not  more  than  fifty  people 
in  it  altogether.  I  have  proved  what  I  thought 
of  it  by  putting  in  my  own  money,  and  I  stand  or 
fall  with  you. " 

"Well,"  said  Shaw,  "we  expect  you  to  see  that 
we  don't  fall.  You  can  afford  to  lose  a  bit, 
probably  have  more  than  you  know  what  to  do 
with,  we  haven't — it's  the  other  way  round,  in 
fact." 

"If  you  and  Lant  are  millionaires,"  put  in 
Digby,  "why  didn't  you  take  up  our  shares  be- 
tween you  and  run  the  accursed  thing  yourselves?" 

The  idea  seemed  to  amuse  Shaw.  "What's  a 
millionaire  for,"  he  said,  "if  he  doesn't  take  the 
monster  chance?" 

"That's  a  very  interesting  proposal,"  Wendern 
looked  up  as  if  struck  by  the  remark.  "I  should 
like  to  consider  it,  say  till  next  week. " 

"We  should  like  it  settled  this  week,"  Digby 
growled,  "and  you'd  better  think  it  over.  You'll 
have  a  hailstorm  about  your  head  soon,  when 
they've  taken  in  the  drift  of  our  circular. " 

The  boy  entered  with  a  telegram,  Wendern's 
heart  leaped.  "This  may  possibly  be  from 
Lant,"  he  said.  "It  is!" — he  looked  up  triumph- 
antly, and  read — 

In  London  immediately ',  call  meeting  for  Thursday  next  week. 
Letter  follows. 

133 


George  Wendern 

Digby  gave  a  grunt. 

Shaw,  easily  appeased,  said,  "Well,  I  suppose 
we  shall  know  something  then?" 

"All  I  can  say  to  you  now,  gentlemen,  is  that  the 
meeting  will  take  place  on  Thursday.  Mr.  Lant's 
telegram  has  come  at  the  psychological  moment. " 

Digby  considered  for  a  moment  before  he  said, 
"Well,  we'll  wait  till  Lant  comes  and  no  longer." 

"Not  a  minute  longer,"  Lazarus  added. 

The  deputation  turned  to  go,  but  the  parson 
stopped  for  a  parting  word,  "Remember,  Mr. 
Wendern,  that  it  isn't  only  ourselves  who  will 
suffer,"  he  said,  "but  those  innocent  ones  who 
belong  to  us;  they  will  have  to  pay  the  penalty 
of  our  reprehensible  carelessness. " 

"I  say,  can't  directors  who  ruin  people  be  had 
up  now?"  asked  the  youth  who  had  invested  his 
mother's  insurance  money.  "Sent  to  prison  and 
that  sort  of  thing?" 

"There  ought  to  be  a  hanging  penalty  attached 
to  it,"  Digby  grunted. 

"Quite  right,  it  ought  to  be  a  capital  offence," 
the  Jew  snuffled. 

"I  should  like  to  go  to  their  execution."  Digby 
was  recovering. 

"You  shall  all  of  you  come  to  mine,"  Wendern 
told  them  with  a  smile — "if  it  takes  place.  I 
fear  you  must  wait  to  assure  yourselves  of  that 

134 


Gave  a  Party 

probability  till  after  the  meeting,  of  which  a  notice 
will  be  sent  you.  Good  morning." 

Shaw  turned  back  and  held  out  a  hand.  "I 
believe  you'll  get  us  out  of  the  hole  if  you  can," 
he  said  cheerily. 

Wendern's  face  lighted  up  as  he  answered, 
"There  isn't  going  to  be  any  hole,  but  if  there  is 
I'll  get  you  out." 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Wendern,"  the  parson 
said  severely. 

"He  takes  it  pretty  coolly,"  Digby  was  heard 
telling  the  others  as  they  went  downstairs,  "but 
we  shall  hear  what  Mr.  Christopher  Lant  has  to 
say." 

Wendern  gave  a  gasp  of  relief  when  the  door  was 
shut,  and  read  again  the  latest  cablegram  of  the 
Dock  case.  "They  shall  be  safe  in  any  case," 
he  said  to  himself.  He  put  down  the  cable  and 
looked  at  Lant's  telegram.  "He  can't  be  a  scoun- 
drel," he  thought;  "reckless  and  easy-going,  but 
not  a  scoundrel." 

Suddenly  he  remembered — and  rang  the  bell. 
"Is  Mr.  Parker  here?"  he  asked  the  boy. 

"Yes,  sir,  waiting." 

"Tell  him  to  come  up." 


135 


CHAPTER  XII 

"TT7ELL,"  Parker  asked,  "how  did  it  go?" 

VV       "Badly." 

"I  thought  so;  a  windy  sort  of  a  chap  down- 
stairs, evidently  a  fool,  who  was  afraid  to  come  up, 
confided  in  me. " 

"They  were  all  fools — or  knaves." 

"You  seem  put  out  a  bit?"  Parker  examined 
the  strength  of  the  chair,  as  usual,  before  he  sat 
down. 

Wendern  took  out  his  cigarette  case.  "I  am; 
not  by  them,  but  by  my  own  folly.  I  wonder  if 
you  ever  saw  the  prospectus  of  this  precious  Syn- 
dicate. I'll  show  you  it;"  he  opened  a  drawer 
at  the  bottom  of  the  writing-table. 

"You  needn't  trouble,  George,  I  saw  it  out 
there." 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  the  Directors? 
To  my  eternal  disgrace  I  hardly  know  anything, 
though  I'm  one  of  them. " 

"Well,  the  Chairman  is  a  guinea-pig  who  traded 
on  his  title—the  only  capital  he  had.  They  didn't 
think  much  of  him  in  Los  Angeles.  I  came  across 
him  there  after  they'd  done  with  him  in  Australia. " 

136 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Parker  saw  Wendern 
looking  almost  fierce.  "There's  Franklin  Clay- 
ton," he  said,  "his  name  weighed  a  good  deal  with 
me;  he  gave  £15,000  to  the  Technical  Education 
scheme  in  Sydney." 

"That  was  some  years  ago.  He'd  been  dead  a 
good  while  before  this  prospectus  was  put  up, 
I  can  tell  you. " 

"Dead!" 

"I  suppose  this  is  a  son  or  some  relation  called 
after  him;  I  don't  know  anything  about  him." 

"Why  didn't  I  hear  of  his  death?  it  must  have 
been  in  the  papers. " 

"You  see  you've  been  drifting  about  the  world 
a  good  deal,  George,  and  lost  touch  with  things  out 
yonder. " 

"It  is  eight  years  since  I  was  there.  Do  you 
know  anything  about  James  Golbreath?" 

"There  are  a  good  many  Golbreaths  knocking 
round  at  various  doors;  this  James  has  been  mixed 
up  in  all  sorts  of  concerns,  but  I  never  heard  of 
one  he  had  to  do  with  that  came  to  any  good. 
There  was  no  harm  in  him — he  was  a  happy-go- 
lucky,  borrow-your-money,  stand-you-a-drink  sort 
of  customer.  But  you're  always  such  a  dreamy 
chap.  Most  men  mixed  up  in  a  Syndicate  business 
are  wide-awake,  you  can  take  my  word  for  that, 
and  ready  to  pick  the  pocket  of  their  father's 

137 


George  Wendern 

ghost  when  he  comes  round  to  haunt  them — if  he 
died  with  any  coins  in  it. " 

"I  ought  to  be  shot." 

"Not  so  bad  as  that,  George." 

"Yes,  as  bad  as  that.  But  I  never  understood 
the  value  of  money  till  I  wanted  it  myself. " 

Parker  watched  Wendern  roll  his  cigarette  and 
light  it. 

"You  see  you  always  had  it." 

"My  people  were  poor  enough  once;  then  they 
scooped  it  in,  but  they  had  not  learnt  how  to  use 
it  before  they  died. " 

"Well,  when  your  turn  came  you  gave  it  away 
right  and  left,  so  you  have  nothing  to  reproach 
yourself  with  anyhow.  Every  poor  devil  who 
brought  you  his  tale  went  away  richer  than  he 
came." 

"Because  I  had  more  than  I  knew  what  to  do 
with.  I  only  gave  what  I  didn't  want  and  didn't 
value. " 

"You  didn't  hoard  it;   you  weren't  a  miser." 

"There's  no  virtue  in  abstaining  from  a  vice 
you  are  not  tempted  to  commit,"  Wendern  said 
bitterly.  "I  gave  because  people  asked  me,  and 
it  was  easier  to  give  than  to  refuse.  If  they  were 
poor,  I  gave,  so  that  I  mightn't  be  worried  by 
thinking  of  their  poverty.  I  took  no  trouble  to 
see  that  the  money  would  be  spent  wisely,  or  that 

138 


Gave  a  Party 

the  people  who  had  it  were  not  impostors.  I  gave 
for  any  scheme  that  amused  me — or  to  any  jack- 
ass I  liked  who  had  a  tomfool  scheme  on — in  fact, 
I  gave;  but  not  for  the  sake  of  any  good  it  might 
do.  How  much  does  that  sort  of  generosity  count 
to  one?  What  did  it  cost  me  to  give?  It  was  no 
effort.  I  didn't  miss  anything,  went  without 
nothing." 

"Well,  it's  better  to  give  than  to  hoard.  A  good 
circulation  is  everything,  whether  it's  blood,  or 
money,  or  a  newspaper." 

"And  this  precious  Syndicate.  Lant  amused 
me — I  liked  his  insolence — his  confidence;  he 
asked  me  to  put  in  £20,000,  and  I  did.  And  be- 
cause I  put  in  my  easily  gained  thousands,  people 
who  had  seen  me  about  in  London,  or  who  had 
heard  that  I  was  rich,  or  were  deceived  by  the  pre- 
cious prospectus,  put  in  money  they  could  ill 
afford,  all  they  had.  And  some  of  them — many 
of  them,  perhaps — stand  to  be  ruined  in  conse- 
quence. But  I'll  prevent  that,  though  I  sell  my 
last  stick.  Directors  of  companies  who  take  no 
trouble  about  their  responsibilities,  guinea-pigs, 
hawkers  of  one-pound  shares,  who  think  of  nothing 
but  their  own  battening  and  fattening,  while  the 
fools  who  are  caught  by  their  names  starve,  or 
break  their  hearts,  are  often  worse  thieves  than 
the  men  who  go  to  prison  for  vulgar  stealing. " 

139 


George  Wendern 

"But  you're  not  one  of  them,  George?" 
"I  identified  myself  with  them.     I  did  from 
want  of  thought,  or  knowledge,  what  other  men 
do  deliberately.    The  result  is  the  same;  and  it's 
the  results  that  matter  to  others. " 
"That's  true,  George,  that's  true." 
"Great  God!    If  I  could  only  pay  off  these 
little  shareholders. " 

"You  will.  The  Dock  case  will  settle  up  mat- 
ters for  you." 

"The  Dock  case  may  go  against  me." 
"Well,  never  mind  if  it  does;    but  it  can't. 
It's  one  of  the  things  I  came  to  say.     It's  safe — 
certain. " 

"If  that's  so,  things  will  straighten  out,"  Wen- 
dern said  and  wrinkled  his  forehead.  "Every  man 
in  the  Syndicate  shall  get  back  the  money  he  put 
in  through  any  influence  of  mine,  and  Lant  shall 
do  the  same  with  the  rest — or  I'll  throttle  him. 
Who  gave  you  your  information?" 

"The  Agent-General;  I've  just  been  to  him. 
He  had  a  cable." 

"It  seems  to  be  making  a  stir;  the  papers  give 
an  account  of  it  every  morning,  and  they  cable 
me  the  pith  of  each  day's  hearing.     If  it  goes  right 
the  worries  will  be  at  an  end. " 
"I  think  they  are  coming  to  an  end,  George." 
Wendern  vaguely  wondered  at  his  confidence. 
140 


Gave  a  Party 

"Well,  I  shall  have  learnt  a  lesson.  Let's  talk 
of  something  else. " 

There  was  a  pause  before  Parker  ventured  to 
ask,  "Seen  Miss  Fiffer  lately?  I  should  like  to 
know  how  things  are  going  in  that  direction?" 

Wendern  realised  then  how  anxious  he  had 
been  about  the  Syndicate  business  from  the  fact 
that  for  the  last  hour  he  had  forgotten  he  was  ex- 
pecting to  hear  from  Katherine.  "I  went  to  see 
her  the  other  day;  she's  coming  home  this  after- 
noon, I  believe,"  he  said. 

"Well,  she's  got  some  cash;  if  you  marry 
her- 

"I  shall  never  touch  it.  Not  a  penny  of  it,  not 
a  cent;  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  that." 

> 

"But  what  would  you  expect  her  to  do  with  it?" 

"  Keep  it.  Spend  it  as  she  likes  best — and  have 
it  out  with  her  own  conscience.  Oh,  I  've  thought 
things  over  in  the  last  few  days,  Joe,  and  I'll  tell 
you  this,  we  talk  of  educating  the  poor  and  suffo- 
cate them  with  stuff  of  no  use  to  them,  but  it  is 
the  rich  who  need  educating  and  the  responsi- 
bility of  money  is  the  first  thing  they  have  to 
learn." 

"You  see,  they  like  to  get  something  out  of  it 
for  themselves. " 

"Of  course  they  do.  I  don't  mean  that  they 
should  give  it  all  away  to  charities  or  to  a  class 

141 


George  Wendern 

that  is  poor  only  because  it  won't  work.  The  idle 
poor  are  as  bad  as  the  idle  rich — worse,  for  their 
idleness  often  brings  consequences  more  tragic,  or 
more  immediate  at  any  rate.  It's  too  big  a  sub- 
ject to  discuss  now;  but  if  I  were  a  law-maker, 
fooling  away  money  should  be  a  crime — not  spend- 
ing. The  men  who  knows  how  to  spend  properly 
is  all  right,  but  the  people  who  fool  it  away,  rich 
or  poor,  are  criminals. " 

"You  don't  mean  they  oughtn't  to  amuse 
themselves  occasionally?"  Parker  was  a  little 
upset. 

"Of  course  not,  though  there's  too  much  pleas- 
ure-seeking now  in  every  class,  if  pleasure  is  the 
right  name  to  give  to  going  night  after  night  to 
the  stalls  of  the  theatre  or  the  gallery  of  a  cheap 
music-hall — they  are  the  two  ends  of  the  stick — 
till  there's  no  home  life  left.  Slow  suicide,  Joe, 
to  the  best  side  of  them  all,  the  everlasting  bout 
of  thoughtless  racket  that  goes  on  now. " 

"You  know,"  said  Parker  after  a  pause,  "it's 
rather  pleasant  to  fool  away  money  occasionally — 
on  a  woman,  for  instance." 

"You're  finding  that  out,  are  you?  You  had 
better  go  back  to  Australia,  Joe.  How  much  did 
you  give  for  that  fan,  by  the  way?" 

"Did  she  tell  you  about  it?"  the  backwoodsman 

asked  sheepishly.    "Didn't  think " 

142 


Gave  a  Party 

The  telephone  bell  rang.  Wendern  turned  to  it 
feverishly. 

"Katherine  is  staying  at  Brighton  till  to-mor- 
row," he  said  when  he  had  replaced  the  receiver. 
"I  should  like  to  motor  down  and  fetch  her,  but 
for  some  reason  the  mother  doesn't  want  me  to 
go,  and  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  think  that  Kath- 
erine does." 

"Then  I  wouldn't.  Besides,  I  should  say  it's 
a  good  thing  not  to  let  a  woman  see  you're  eager. " 

"But  I  am."  It  was  said  under  his  breath. 
"My  life  is  hanging  on  her." 

Parker  slowly  elaborated  what  he  considered 
to  be  a  joke.  "  I  don't  hold  with  any  sort  of  hang- 
ing," he  said,  "but  I'm  beginning  to  see  that  if 
one  takes  to  thinking  about  a  woman  at  all,  a  good 
many  things  have  a  way  of  hanging  themselves  on 
her." 

Dawson  entered.     "Sir  John  Carneford,  sir." 

Parker  held  out  his  hand.  "You'll  see  me  again 
soon,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I'm  going  to 
give  you  a  surprise,"  with  which  lucid  remark  he 
departed. 


143 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SIR  JOHN  CARNEFORD  was  a  fussy  gentle- 
man of  fifty,  a  little  grey,  and  growing  stout, 
but  still  a  good  figure  of  a  man.  "The  matter  is 
this, "  he  said  when  they  had  exchanged  greetings, 
"I've  come  up  on  purpose  to  see  you.  Cyril 
Graham,  our  vicar — you  met  him  when  you  came 
over  to  luncheon  at  Carneford  last  year — is  very 
anxious  about  your  Syndicate " 

"He  was  here  just  now." 

"Oh!  I  knew  he  was  upset,  but  I  didn't  know 
he  was  in  London.  He  had  a  couple  of  thousand 
to  invest;  he  asked  my  advice,  and  I  told  him  to 
trust  it  to  Lant.  I  put  in  a  thousand  myself,  and 
to  tell  the  you  truth,  I  can  no  more  afford  to  lose 
the  money  than  he  can. " 

"A  little  more,  I  should  say." 

"Well,  it  would  be  most  inconvenient.  You 
see,  he  had  heard  that  Lant,  who  was  very  kind 
to  his  children  was  a  millionaire,  and  I  knew 
you.  Naturally,  I  thought  nothing  could  be 
better." 

"If  the  thing  went  wrong,  I  suppose  you 
wouldn't  let  him  lose  his  money?" 

144 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

"I  don't  want  to  lose  mine,"  Sir  John  answered 
testily. 

"  Still,  when  a  poor  man,  or  any  one  else,  asks 
your  advice  about  investments  you  should  send 
him  to  a  banker  or  a  family  lawyer,  who  would 
tell  him  that  the  Directors  of  a  Syndicate  for  ex- 
ploiting Australian  estates — no  matter  how  honest 
they  may  be — are  not  the  right  people  to  invest 
money  with. " 

"You  don't  mean  that  the  thing  isn't  safe?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Don't  know!"  The  good  gentleman  was 
astounded. 

"I  have  £20,000  in  it  myself." 

"That  may  be  a  trifle  to  you,  but  £1,000  is  a 
good  deal  to  me. " 

"It's  more  than  a  trifle  to  me.  However, 
Lant  will  be  in  England  directly,  and  a  meeting 
will  be  called — that's  all  I  can  tell  you. "  Wendern 
rose  to  put  an  end  to  the  interview. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  unpleasant,  but  if  it  turns 
out  badly  I  shall  expose — I  mean  to  say  I  shall  call 
for  an  investigation.  Lant  was  most  agreeable 
and  vigorous,  as  colonists  often  are;  but  I  don't 
think  the  fact  that  a  man  has  stayed  at  your 
house  should  prevent  you  from  taking  measures 
that  are  right  in  the  interests  of  justice.  And, 
Mr.  Wendern,  it  was  because  we  all  liked  you  that 

145 


George  Wendern 

I  ventured — "  Sir  John  was  raising  his  voice; 
he  felt  as  if  he  were  sitting  on  the  bench  at  the 
petty  sessions  in  his  own  post  town. 

Wendern  put  his  hand  on  Carneford's  arm  and 
smiled;  he  was  almost  amused.  "It  is  strange 
to  have  to  regret  that  I  won  your  good  opinion," 
he  said. 

"You  are  very  cool." 

"It's  no  good  getting  hot.  Take  my  advice, 
and  wait  till  Lant  comes  over. " 

Against  his  will  the  other  man  was  propitiated. 
He  had  always  liked  Wendern. 

"The  fellow  has  such  a  charming  voice,"  he 
told  his  wife  that  evening.  "Pon  my  life,  I 
couldn't  believe  that  he  was  an  impostor,  or  would 
do  anything  at  all,  in  fact,  that  wasn't  straight- 
forward and  aboveboard.  There's  something 
about  him  that  makes  it  impossible.  I  really 
don't  know  how  to  explain  what  I  mean. " 

"I  know,"  his  wife  answered. 

"I  daresay  you  do.  I  should  think  a  good  many 
women  did." 

This  was  why  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  "I'll  wait  till  Lant  comes 
over.  By  the  way,  I  met  a  charming  girl  on  Sun- 
day at  Brighton — Miss  Fiffer.  A  great  friend 
of  yours,  isn't  she?" 

"I  should  like  to  think  so."  As  Wendern 
146 


Gave  a  Party 

spoke  another  telegram  was  brought  to  him.  He 
took  it  quickly,  his  hand  closed  over  it,  but  he 
seemed  in  no  hurry  to  open  it. 

"Well,  I  feel  sure  you  may. "  Sir  John  felt  that 
he  was  expected  to  say  something  more.  "A 
great  heiress,  isn't  she?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  Wendern  answered  coldly. 
Why  did  a  middle-aged  man's  thoughts  turn  as 
naturally  to  money  as  a  young  man's  to  love? 

The  door  opened  and  Derbyshire  appeared. 
Sir  John,  about  to  depart,  pulled  up.  "Ah,  how 
do  you  do,  Derbyshire?  You're  in  this  Syndicate 
too — Director,  eh!" 

"That's  it.     I'm  in." 

"Have  you  come  to  look  after  it?" 

"Of  course.     How  do,  Wendern?" 

"Well,  perhaps  you  can  tell  me  something 
about  it?"  Sir  John  said. 

"Can't  tell  you  anything  about  it — wouldn't 
do — business  is  business.  But  it's  all  right," 
Derbyshire  answered.  He  gave  the  elder  man 
a  nod  of  dismissal;  it  was  taken  and  the  door  shut. 

Wendern  had  read  his  telegram,  and  was 
scrunching  it  in  his  hand;  he  had  hardly  heard  the 
brief  conversation  of  a  moment  ago. 

He  looked  up.  Derbyshire  was  waiting.  "Well, 
what  is  it?"  he  asked  impatiently. 

"Look  here,  I've  got  some  money  in  this  show 
of  yours. " 

147 


George  Wendern 

"Of  yours  too — you  are  a  Director." 

"Of  course,  but  I  don't  know  anything  about 

it." 

"You  didn't  make  any  inquiries  before  you 
went  on  the  Board?" 

"Not  a  bit.  Lant  said  it  was  all  right,  so  I 
didn't  see  why  I  should  worry.  But  I've  got  a 
thousand  pounds  in  it. " 

"You  didn't  pay  the  thousand?" 

"Oh  no,  of  course  not,  I  never  pay  anything — 
not  so  extravagant  as  that.  Lant  wanted  the  use 
of  my  name  on  the  prospectus,  and  I  wanted  a 
thousand  pounds — always  do.  I  didn't  get  it,  but 
he  said  I  should,  and  a  good  deal  more  as  well — 
out  of  shares  allotted,  you  know. " 

"Ah!  You  met  Lant  before  you  knew  me,  at 
Grantham  Abbey?" 

"That's  it.  Well,  I'm  rather  hard  up  just  now; 
you  can  keep  my  name  on  or  off  as  you  like,  but 
I've  been  wondering  whether  you'd  let  me  have 
the  thousand  pounds  out,  and  I'll  let  you  have  'the 
good  deal  more  as  well. ' ' 

"Your  generosity  is  overwhelming." 

"Don't  know  about  that,  but  I  call  it  a  fair 
offer,  and  you  know  all  about  Lant — it  was  Lant 
put  me  on  to  you.  Thought  you'd  be  rather 
pleased,  especially  after  the  telegram  I  had  from 
him  this  morning." 

"Telegram  you  had?  A  telegram  from  Lant?" 
148 


Gave  a  Party 

Derbyshire  nodded.  "Says  he'll  be  in  London 
this  week.  Staying  at  the  Grosvenor  Hotel,  and 
the  Syndicates  doing  brilliantly.  That's  why  I 
thought  you'd  let  me  have  the  thousand,  don't 
you  know." 

"You  must  wait  till  he  comes." 

"Oh. "  Derbyshire  was  evidently  disappointed. 
"Well,  but — anyhow,  couldn't  you  let  me  draw, 
say  five  hundred?  You've  no  idea  how  useful 
money  is;  fact  is,  I  went  to  Brighton  a  few  days 
ago,  and — look  here,  I  should  like  to  tell  you 
something,  ask  your  advice.  You  know  I've  been 
mixed  up  rather  with  that  little  girl  at  the  Prince's 
Theatre,  and  she's  not  likely  to  cut  up  rusty  at 
all,  awfully  good  sort;  but — there's  Miss  FifFer 
— and — well " 

"I  would  rather  not  discuss  Miss  FifFer — or  the 
little  girl." 

"Oh — all  right.  Can  you  let  me  have  that 
£500?" 

"No,  I  can't  let  you  have  that  £500." 

"Oh,  I  say."  Derbyshire  sat  down.  "Look 
here,  Wendern,  you  mustn't  mind  my  telling  you, 
but  people  are  saying  rather  awkward  things 
about  this  Syndicate." 

"I'm  sorry,  but  I'm  busy,  and  you  must  let 
me  send  you  away.  Lant  will  tell  you  anything 
you  want  to  know  when  he  comes." 

149 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

"Oh — well,  I  must  get  some  food,  and  catch 
a  train — 2.30  at  Victoria. " 

There  was  a  slight  movement  of  Wendern's 
head. 

"Sure  you  can't  manage  £500?"  Derbyshire 
asked.  "I'm  rather  up  a  tree." 

"Quite  sure." 

"Very  singular.  Well,  good-bye."  He  hesi- 
tated; his  manner  was  pleasant  and  boyish.  "I 
say,  old  chap,  you  look  rather  down  on  your  luck; 
hope  you're  not  up  any  sort  of  tree,  too?  It's 
an  awful  bore,  you  know." 

"No,  it's  all  right,  and  you'll  get  down  yours 
when  Lant  comes. " 

"Glad  of  that.     Good-bye."     He  hurried  away. 

Wendern  smoothed  out  the  telegram  in  his 
hand  and  read  it  again. 

It  ran — 

Returning  to-morrow  afternoon.  Come  and  see  me  at  our 
house  at  six.  Please  do  not  come  to  Brighton  or  write. 

Katherine. 

Six  o'clock  to-morrow.  He  counted  the  time. 
It  was  half-past  one  now.  Twenty-eight  and  a 
half  hours  till  he  saw  her. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

TWENTY-EIGHT  hours  and  a  half.  The 
deputation  had  forced  itself  on  his  considera- 
tion for  the  morning,  but  he  knew  that  all  the  time 
he  had  been  waiting  for  her.  And  that  the  visit 
to  Brighton  had  satisfied  him  in  spite  of  the  re- 
straint in  which  she  had  seemed  to  hold  herself, 
and  of  some  things  he  had  not  been  able  to  un- 
derstand, for  she  was  his;  he  felt  it,  knew  it — to 
doubt  her,  as  he  had  said  to  Parker,  would  be  to 
insult  her.  As  for  Derbyshire,  what  did  he  matter? 
He  might  fool  round  her  as  much  as  he  pleased. 

Katherine!  He  could  see  her  walking  across 
the  lawn,  her  tall  slim  figure,  her  light  free  step 
as  if  her  feet  touched  the  ground  with  a  proud 
love  of  it.  He  dared  not  remember  the  look  in 
her  eyes  the  other  night,  it  made  his  brain  whirl, 
and  he  wanted  to  keep  it  clear  for  business  mat- 
ters that  still  demanded  attention;  but  every  day 
and  night  that  passed  wove  her  closer  and  deeper 
into  his  life.  Twenty-eight  hours  and  a  half  till 
she  came,  sixty  minutes  to  every  hour — he  could 
be  calm  enough  outwardly ;  but  it  seemed  impossible 


George  Wendern 

to  live  through  them.  "If  she  and  I  were  only  a 
few  thousand  miles  away  in  some  part  of  the  world 
which  is  as  God  left  it,  with  the  chance  of  coming 
back  to  this  country  she  is  so  fond  of  when  we'd 
thought  out  a  sane  scheme  of  life — "  he  said  to 
himself.  But  his  eye  caught  a  heap  of  letters  and 
papers  as  yet  untouched.  He  shunted  her  (as  he 
called  it)  to  a  siding  in  his  thoughts  while  he 
resolutely  turned  to  the  business  of  the  Syndicate. 
There  were  dozens  of  letters  brought  down  by  the 
circular,  grumblings,  complaints,  threatenings; 
each  writer  intent  on  himself  and  his  bit  of  money 
without  a  thought  of  the  possible  difficulties  to  be 
encountered  by  a  large  concern  and  the  develop- 
ment that  was  frankly,  from  the  outset,  a  specu- 
lative one.  "It's  the  old  story,"  he  thought, 
"they  are  hampered  by  the  whisperings  of  the 
devil,  and  the  difficulties  of  living  with  any  satis- 
faction to  themselves  in  the  midst  of  what  is  called 
a  great  civilisation." 

He  sent  for  Dawson,  "I  want  to  know,"  he 
said,  "if  you  made  out  that  list  of  shareholders ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  will  go  through  it." 

For  the  next  hour  he  was  hard  at  work.  It 
dismayed  him  to  find,  from  a  receipt  among  some 
papers,  that  it  was  through  him  that  Digby  had 
come  into  the  Syndicate.  Wendern  had  never 


Gave  a  Party 

seen  him  till  the  day  he  presented  himself  at  the 
office,  knew  nothing  about  him.  It  seemed  that 
he  was  a  surveyor  and  land-valuer;  and  a  couple 
of  summers  ago,  when  the  Bangor  scheme  was  first 
before  the  public,  Wendern  had  taken  a  little  place 
in  the  country  for  a  few  weeks;  there  had  been  no 
garage  to  it,  and  one  had  been  rented  through 
Digby,  who  had  thus  heard  of  the  Syndicate,  and 
associated  it  with  his  evidently  rich  tenant. 

The  number  of  small  investors,  mostly  brought 
in  by  Lant,  was  considerable,  and  the  sum  involved 
came  to  more  than  it  had  seemed  at  a  rough 
guess.  "It  doesn't  matter,"  Wendern  said,  "they 
shall  get  their  money  back  or  both  of  us  shall  pay 
the  piper.  Luckily,  if  Lant  proves  to  be  a  scoun- 
drel, he  is  a  good-natured  one;  that  has  always 
been  to  his  credit." 

He  went  carefully  over  the  list  of  shareholders, 
and  set  down  on  a  separate  sheet  those  for  whom 
he  considered  himself  responsible;  there  were  not 
more  than  twenty  altogether.  In  a  third  list  he 
put  the  small  ones  brought  in  by  Lant,  and 
against  them  their  position,  so  far  as  could  be 
ascertained,  with  conjectures  of  what  the  loss  of 
their  money  might  mean  to  them.  It  was  in  this 
third  one  that  most  of  those  he  had  seen  to- 
day were  included — Bennett,  Shaw,  the  boy  on 
crutches,  and  the  youth  who  had  speculated  with 

153 


George  Wendern 

his  mother's  money.  "I'm  glad  I'm  not  respon- 
sible for  the  poor  young  fools,"  he  thought,  "but 
it's  rough  that  they  should  start  out  into  the  world 
with  this  sort  of  experience.  A  good  lesson,  the 
moralist  might  say — but  the  moralist  is  only  a 
prison  warder  of  the  better  sort,  who  usually 
leaves  his  keys  about." 

Dawson  was  longing  to  ask  questions  concerning 
the  analysis,  but  he  had  not  the  courage,  till  the 
business  being  finished  and  the  papers  put  away 
he  ventured  to  say,  "You  don't  think  there's 
anything  to  be  nervous  about,  sir?" 

He  was  answered  in  a  rather  sharp  manner, 
for  the  "chief,"  "Whether  there  is  or  not,  you 
will  get  your  money.  Copy  out  these  lists  and 
have  them  ready  in  the  morning." 

He  looked  up  at  the  clock.  Half-past  two. 
Twenty-seven  hours  and  a  half.  They  had  to 
be  filled.  He  felt  that  it  was  impossible  to  go 
back  to  Princes  Gate  and  look  across  at  the  house 
at  right  angles  to  his  own.  For  a  minute,  in  his 
thoughts,  he  walked  up  and  down  the  lawn  and 
stood  beneath  the  sycamore-tree  by  the  gate  that 
led  into  the  Fiffer  "bit. "  There  were  many  other 
trees;  their  July  leaves  screened  the  windows  and 
softened  the  walls  of  the  houses.  It  was  a  won- 
derful thing  to  have  that  green  space  behind.  In 
front  of  his  house  (though  not,  of  course,  of  the 

154 


Gave  a  Party 

Fiffers'),  beyond  the  private  roadway  and  the 
main  road  beyond,  the  park  stretched  away  to  an 
indefinite  distance;  and  an  indefinite  distance  of 
any  sort  always  appealed  to  him.  Lant  had  done 
well  for  him  in  making  him  take  that  house.  He 
wondered  if  Katherine  would  ever  live  in  it.  Then 
it  would  be  good  to  come  home  to  sometimes,  from 
the  long  journeys  and  the  staying  away  at  the 
world's  end  that  he  often  vaguely  imagined.  It 
was  differently  arranged  from  those  next  it;  the 
staircase  had  been  turned  round  so  as  to  give  a 
wide  dining-room  opening  out  to  the  back,  as  did 
the  morning-room.  Idly,  and  just  for  the  pleasure 
of  it,  he  planned  various  improvements  that  were 
possible.  Perhaps,  if  Katherine  came — he  pulled 
himself  together.  Dawson  was  waiting. 

"It  seems  to  me  you  must  be  hungry,"  Wendern 
said  to  him,  prosaically  enough;  "it  must  be  a 
long  time  since  you  had  food." 

"It  doesn't  matter,  sir." 

"It  matters  a  great  deal;  I  must  want  some  too. 
We'll  go  together  somewhere. "  Dawson  was  over- 
come, for  he  adored  Wendern.  "While  we  are 
eating  the  car  can  be  getting  towards  me."  He 
telephoned  to  Rogers  to  send  it  to  the  Grill  Room 
entrance  of  the  Carlton  in  half  an  hour,  with 
things  in  it  sufficient  for  a  night's  absence.  He 
had  remembered  a  quiet  inn  near  Farnham;  he 

155 


George  Wendern 

had  gone  to  it  late  last  year  with  a  man  he  knew, 
for  some  wild-duck  shooting  over  the  ponds.  It 
had  been  quiet  then;  it  would  probably  be  full 
now  with  summertime  guests.  They  would  be 
sitting  at  the  little  tables  in  the  garden,  or  pulling 
themselves  about  on  the  water — but  he  could  be 
blind  and  deaf  at  will. 

In  two  hours'  time  he  was  motoring  himself 
along  the  Portsmouth  Road,  for  he  had  dismissed 
the  chauffeur:  he  wanted  to  be  alone,  to  think 
and  dream  uncriticised,  unhampered  by  even  a 
servant.  He  went  slowly,  to  the  discontent  per- 
haps of  the  watchers,  and  the  police  traps  for 
which  that  way  is  celebrated,  glad  to  get  into 
Surrey,  with  its  bell-heather — it  was  nearly  over, 
dead  and  brown  in  patches — its  gorse  and  broom 
and  whortleberries,  and  the  blueness  of  the  hills 
ranged  in  the  soft  distance.  He  turned  off  sharp 
on  the  right  along  the  Farnham  Road,  by  Churt, 
and  on  to  the  sandy  one  that  led  to  the  ponds 
and  the  inn  with  the  wooden  balcony  that  he  re- 
membered. They  had  room  for  him  for  just  one 
night,  he  was  told;  he  explained  that  he  wanted 
to  stay  only  till  the  early  morning.  He  thought  of 
the  places  the  sun  would  have  seen  after  it  had 
sunk  in  the  west  and  came  up  for  the  dawn — the 
dawn  of  the  day  on  which  Katherine  would  return. 
He  meant  to  be  back  at  the  office  in  time  for  the 

156 


Gave  a  Party 

business  of  life  and  news  of  Lant.  There  might 
even  be  a  line  from  her,  who  knew?  He  had  told 
Rogers  to  see  that  the  letters  were  sent  on  to  him 
at  the  office  by  ten  o'clock. 


157 


CHAPTER  XV 

MRS.  FIFFER  heard  from  Katharine  by  the 
second  post,  an  hour  after  Wendern  had 
gone  to  his  office.  A  scrappy  little  letter,  saying 
that  she  would  be  back  the  next  afternoon,  and 
asking  her  mother  to  telephone  to  Wendern,  which, 
of  course,  was  done.  The  telegram  to  him  was 
evidently  a  later  thought,  due  probably  to  the 
idea  that  she  owed  him  some  communication. 

The  morning  passed  uneasily,  laggingly;  the 
drawing-room,  the  whole  house,  was  heavy  with 
the  scent  of  flowers.  Mrs.  Fiffer  wondered  why 
it  was  necessary  to  have  so  many  about,  but 
Katherine  liked  them.  "It's  no  good  my  fuss- 
ing," she  thought;  "I'll  just  sit  down  and  wait, 
and  if  the  show  passes  the  window  I'll  see  it.  I 
can't  do  anything. "  She  had  realised  very  clearly 
that  ^Catherine's  character  was  a  stronger  one  than 
her  own,  and  that  she  would  turn  the  key  herself 
in  the  door  she  meant  to  open.  Something  was 
going  to  happen,  everything  in  the  house  seemed 
to  know  it,  but  it  was  no  use  trying  to  guess  what 
it  was;  perhaps,  as  she  expressed  it,  "things  were 
tired  of  doing  nothing  and  meant  to  be  a  little 
startling — somehow. " 

158 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

In  the  early  afternoon  it  struck  her  that  she 
would  go  and  pay  Mrs.  Berwick  a  visit, — "She 
might  like  it.  I've  no  doubt  she  feels  lonely 
sometimes.  Besides,  I  never  do  go  to  see  her, 
for  of  course,  when  Mr.  Wendern  is  at  home  it's 
always  to  see  him. "  She  dressed  carefully,  feeling 
that  it  would  look  polite,  and  went  by  the  front 
door;  the  garden  way  across,  at  the  back,  was 
only  an  intimate  thoroughfare  for  occasional  use 
when  the  little  gates  between,  that  safeguarded  it, 
were  open. 

She  liked  Mrs.  Berwick,  though  not  for  a  mo- 
ment did  the  shrewd  American  woman  make  any 
mistake  about  her.  She  saw  the  good  qualities 
of  the  lady-housekeeper  and  guessed  at  her  pluck, 
her  courage,  and  endurance.  "Daresay,  too," 
she  thought,  "she  gets  a  few  snubs  when  she 
doesn't  want  them,  and  she  may  like  a  talk  with 
someone  she  can  be  easy  with.  I  wouldn't  mind 
doing  something  for  her  some  day.  I  can't  bear 
the  thought  of  a  woman  like  that  being  left  on 
an  island,  as  one  may  say,  in  her  middle  age;  for, 
once  her  looks  are  gone,  she  doesn't  make  much 
way  unless  she  has  money  or  something  else  to 
count." 

She  turned  the  corner,  and  was  within  a  few 
yards  of  the  house  when  she  saw  Joe  Parker  leave 
it.  "Well,  now,"  she  said  to  herself,  "that's  in- 

159 


George  Wendern 

teresting;  perhaps  it's  the  way  things  are  going  to 
settle  themselves  for  her.  He  knows  that  Mr. 
Wendern  isn't  in  at  this  time  of  day,  so  he  must 
have  gone  to  see  her."  She  stopped  firmly  in 
front  of  him.  "Why,  Mr.  Parker,"  she  said,  "I 
was  just  going  to  call  on  Mrs.  Berwick;  I  expect 
that's  what  you've  been  doing?" 

"  It  is,  marm, "  he  said.  "  I  trust  I  see  you  well  ? 
I  saw  Wendern  this  morning,  and  he  tells  me  your 
daughter  is  not  back  yet." 

But  Mrs.  Fiffer  was  not  to  be  put  off  the  scent 
so  easily, — "I  expect  you  had  a  pleasant  talk  with 
Mrs.  Berwick?" 

"I  did,"  he  answered,  "and  I  hope  you'll  have 
the  same." 

"I  call  her  a  very  nice  woman." 

"You're  right,  marm,  and  I  won't  detain  you 
from  her  any  longer.  When  Miss  Fiffer  comes 
home,  perhaps  you'll  let  me  give  you  all  a  little 
entertainment?" 

"Why,  we'd  like  it,"  Mrs.  Fiffer  beamed. 
"What  way  would  you  propose  to  do  it?" 

"Well,  we  might  dine  somewhere,"  he  said 
slowly,  "then  go  to  a  theatre  and  have  supper 
afterwards,  at  some  other  place  where  there  is 
music,  and  see  the  smart  people — I  believe  that's 
the  thing  that  is  considered  amusing  in  London; 
and  if  you  and  Mrs.  Berwick  will  just  arrange  the 

160 


Gave  a  Party 

details  I'll  take  it  as  a  favour.  Wendern's  one 
of  my  oldest  friends,  and  I  can't  tell  you  how  much 
I  admire  Miss  Fiffer— 

"It's  really  very  nice  of  you,  Mr.  Parker,  I'll 
be  pleased;  and  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  you 
enjoyed  it  as  much  as  any  of  us — you  and  Mrs. 
Berwick. " 

"That'll  be  saying  a  good  deal,"  he  admitted, 
with  a  shake  of  his  head  and  a  grip  of  her  hand 
that  made  her  wish  she  had  forgotten,  as  she  often 
did,  to  put  the  diamond  rings  on  her  strong  honest 
fingers. 

"I  feel  sure  of  it,  JVJr.  Parker,"  and  with  this 
she  went  on  to  pay  her  visit. 

Mrs.  Berwick  was  in  her  own  little  sitting- 
room  near  the  front  door,  for,  as  a  rule,  she  used 
the  morning-room  only  in  the  first  part  of  the 
day.  Wendern  always  expected  to  find  her  there, 
ready  to  discuss  any  household  arrangements.  He 
had  told  her  that  it  was  at  her  service  whenever 
he  was  out  of  the  way,  or  indeed  when  he  was  at 
home  too,  if  she  chose  to  make  use  of  it;  but  Mrs. 
Berwick  knew  that  he  liked  it  better  than  any  other 
room,  and  that  naturally  he  liked  it  to  himself. 
Nevertheless,  when  Wendern's  message  arrived, 
stating  that  he  would  not  be  home  till  to-morrow, 
she  felt  at  liberty  to  receive  her  visitors  there. 
She  was  charmingly  dressed,  and  had  the  slightly 

161 


George  Wendern 

absent  smiling  air  of  a  woman  who  has  made  a 
recent  conquest  and  is  thinking  it  over. 

"It  is  so  kind  of  you  to  come  and  see  me,"  she 
said. 

"Well,  but  wasn't  it  clever  of  me  to  wait  till 
jMr.  Parker  had  gone?" 

*  "Oh,  no,  dear  Mrs.  Fiffer,  he  would  have  loved 
talking  to  you." 

At  which  dear  Mrs.  Fiffer  winked  inwardly  and 
told  her  of  his  desire  to  make  up  a  theatre  party. 

Mrs.  Berwick  was  delighted;  always  a  little 
sensitive  of  the  position  she  occupied,  she  jumped 
gratefully  at  any  recognition  that  took  the  form 
of  including  her  in  the  usual  round  of  a  richer  world 
than  her  own.  She  thought  of  her  husband's 
crew,  of  how  they  had  patronised  her  in  days  gone 
by,  and  finally  dropped  her — she  hated  them  all 
and  never  meant  to  know  them  again,  let  things 
take  what  turn  they  would.  Wendern,  though 
he  had  engaged  her  for  definite  work,  had  treated 
her  properly,  and  always  with  deference.  Unfort- 

t  unately  she  knew  perfectly  that  her  time  in  Princes 
Gate  was  fast  coming  to  an  end.  Something  was 
wrong  with  the  money  part  of  it;  that  she  herself 
might  not  get  a  penny  troubled  her  little,  for  if  she 
was  mercenary  she  was  not  so  in  a  petty  fashion; 
it  was  the  thought  of  the  good  time  that  would  be 
over  that  worried  her,  that  and — the  reaching 

162 


Gave  a  Party 

out  of  her  heart  towards  Wendern.  Sometimes 
she  could  not  curb  it,  though  she  kept  a  tight  hand 
over  herself,  for  she  had  grasped  from  the  first 
moment  she  saw  him  that  she  would  never  be  any- 
thing more  to  him  than  the  nice  little  lady  who 
presided  over  his  household,  to  be  treated  with 
courtesy  and  kindness  and  that  was  all.  But  she 
was  a  sensible  woman  who  having  once  allowed 
sentiment  to  govern  her,  to  her  own  disaster  in  by- 
gone years,  never  meant  it  to  do  so  again.  Still, 
life  had  its  difficulties,  and  before  Parker  appeared 
on  the  scene  she  had  felt  the  future  vaguely 
threatening  her  with  some  of  those  she  most 
dreaded.  She  had  sat  down  and  considered  pos- 
sibilities. Among  them,  whether  if  Katherine 
married  Wendern,  Mrs.  Fiffer  would  find  that  she 
disliked  being  alone  and  invite  Mrs.  Berwick  to 
help  her  through  social  difficulties  and  amenities, 
or  to  do  courier  business  for  her  when  she  travelled. 
She  had  smiled  a  little  at  the  idea,  for  she  felt  that 
such  a  post  might  be  amusing,  and  that  Mrs. 
Fiffer  would  be  generous,  almost  as  generous  as 
Wendern,  who  would  give  away  anything  he 
possessed,  but  unfortunately  hadn't  the  business 
habit  of  making  prompt  payments. 

With  the  coming  of  Parker  a  new  era  dawned 
for  her.  He  was  not  a  man  to  inspire  the  senti- 
ment she  found  it  impossible  to  help  having  for 

163 


George  Wendern 

his  friend,  but  she  liked  him,  his  roughness,  his 
simplicity,  his  outspokenness.  And  he  had  money, 
that  she  had  made  out,  quantities  of  it,  and  oh !  the 
blessedness  of  not  having  to  think  about  money, 
of  never  wanting  it  again.  If  he  asked  her  to 
marry  him,  she  felt  that  she  ought  to  jump  at  him 
and  be  grateful.  It  wouldn't  be  the  fate  for  which 
unconsciously  her  heart  longed,  but  the  long- 
ings of  one's  heart  have  often  to  do  without  the 
attention  they  desire,  and  Parker,  if  she  took  him, 
should  get  his  fair  exchange — by  which  she  meant 
his  share  of  affection  and  the  fulfilment  of  all  his 
indefinite  expectations  concerning  her.  Failing 
the  two  alternatives  she  saw  nothing  before  her 
but  (as  she  had  explained  to  Mrs.  Rigg)  advertis- 
ing again  in  the  papers  for  another  post. 

She  was  highly  diplomatic  in  her  talk  with  Mrs. 
Fiffer,  and  to  all  that  lady's  hints  she  appeared 
utterly  unconscious. 

"I  thought  I  saw  you  and  Mr.  Parker  at  the 
theatre  the  other  night,  Mrs.  Berwick?"  Mrs. 
Fiffer  said  at  last,  finding  that  roundaboutness  was 
of  no  avail,  "and  I'd  like  to  know  what's  coming 
of  it?" 

"Oh,  there's  nothing  coming  of  it,"  Mrs.  Ber- 
wick put  some  well-feigned  surprise  into  her  ac- 
cents, "except  that  he's  very  lonely  in  London 
and  doesn't  know  his  way  about.  He  asked  me 

164 


Gave  a  Party 

if  I  would  go  with  him,  and  I  simply  hadn't  the 
heart  to  refuse.  It  would  be  so  kind  of  you  to 
invite  him  sometimes,  dear  Mrs.  Fiffer." 

"Well,  I  daresay  we  could  do  with  him,"  then 
suddenly  she  put  another  question.  "What  will 
you  do  if  Mr.  Wendern  gets  married?  You 
won't  want  to  stay  on  here  then — though  no 
doubt  they'd  like  it." 

"Sometimes  I  think  I'll  take  a  cottage  in  the 
country,  or  perhaps  a  very  little  flat  if  I  stay 
in  London."  She  had  never  thought  anything 
of  the  sort,  but  it  sounded  well. 

"There's  always  something  apologetic  about 
a  very  little  flat — in  England,  that  is;  it  seems  to 
feel  that  it  isn't  a  house  and  would  like  to  be  one. " 

"And  they  are  very  expensive — but  everything's 
expensive.  Mr.  Wendern  says  happiness  that 
doesn't  depend  on  money  is  the  only  sort  worth 
having — but  I  don't  know  where  it's  to  be  found." 
Mrs.  Berwick's  words  came  from  her  heart. 

"He  is  quite  right,  though  but  for  money  J.  B. 
Fiffer  wouldn't  have  been  lying  under  a  marble 
monument  that  is  one  of  the  finest  things  in  the 
whole  cemetery — he  would  have  had  a  head-  and 
foot-stone  at  most,  and  a  bit  of  grass  between." 

"I  fear  I  shan't  even  get  that." 

"My  dear  woman,  you'll  sleep  just  as  soundly 
if  the  parish  buries  you." 

165 


George  Wendern 

"Oh,  yes,"  Mrs.  Berwick  said  with  a  sigh,  "I  am 
sure  I  shall.  I  get  so  tired,"  she  added,  in  a  voice 
unconsciously  pathetic,  "that  sometimes  I  think 
it  will  be  a  good  thing  when  it's  all  over. " 

"If  you  were  going  to  die  this  minute  you 
wouldn't  think  so." 

"No,  I  daresay  not.  But  it's  wonderful  how 
we  all  long  for  happiness.  That's  why  we  want 
to  be  rich." 

"Well,  it  isn't  being  rich  that  makes  you  happy." 

"No,  but " 

"Why,  when  J.  B.  and  I  married  we  hadn't  a 
cent  for  years,  but  we  were  so  happy  we  could  have 
sung  for  joy  and  encored  ourselves;  there  was  no 
one  else  to  do  it." 

"How  sweet!" 

"And  when  the  money  first  came  in  we  didn't 
want  to  be  worried  by  it,  so  J.  B.  used  it  to  make 
more — that's  how  he  got  his  pile. " 

"And  you  weren't  happier  for  it?" 

"Not  we.  The  big  house  in  New  York  and  all 
the  trappings  were  only  so  much  work  to  do  and 
trouble  to  look  after.  I  used  to  sit  and  think  of  the 
time  when  we'd  just  one  room  and  everything 
in  it  might  have  been  bought  for  ten  dollars  and 
sold  for  five,  and  wish  myself  back  there  again,  or 
in  the  apartment  house  we  moved  to  next  anyway; 
we'd  only  four  rooms  there.  I  felt  more  at  home; 

166 


Gave  a  Party 

and  J.  B.  and  I  had  more  time  to  care  for  each 
other  than  when  we  had  to  waste  it  on  people  who 
were  three-quarter  strangers  to  us.  But  it's  no 
use  thinking;  I've  got  used  to  this  life  now,  and 
my  Katherine  she'd  be  lost  without  a  big  house 
and  fine  clothes — she'd  be  like  a  chicken  plucked 
of  its  feathers  alive  and  turned  out  into  the  poul- 
try-yard. Well,  I  must  be  going,"  Mrs.  Fiffer 
got  up  and  hesitated,  "I  telephoned  to  Mr.  Wen- 
dern this  morning,"  she  said,  "telling  him  Kath- 
erine wasn't  coming  back  till  to-morrow,"  she 
hesitated  again,  "and  I  happen  to  know  that 
Lord  Derbyshire  is  going  down  to  see  her  this 
afternoon.  I  expect  that's  why  she's  staying. 
How  it's  going  to  turn  out  I  can't  say,"  she  added 
significantly. 
\  "But  last  week  Mr.  Wendern  went  down  too." 

"Why,  yes,  he  did,  and  our  friends  there  were 
awfully  taken  with  him.  They  said  he  had  a 
lovely  manner,  and  a  look  in  his  eyes  any  woman 
might  be  foolish  about." 

Mrs.  Berwick  felt  her  way  with  caution.  "And 
don't  you  think  that  they — care  for  each  other? 
I'm  certain  Mr.  Wendern  is  devoted  to  her, 
every  one  is,  of  course;  but  don't  you  think — that 
she  cares  for  him?" 

"I  don't  think  they'll  marry  each  other,  if  that's 
what  you  mean.  Of  course,  when  we're  young 

167 


George  Wendern 

we're  often  pretty  close  about  our  love-affairs,  just 
as  when  we  grow  old  we  are  about  our  money 
matters,  and  it's  sometimes  wise  not  to  inquire 
into  either.  I  like  Mr.  Wendern  very  much — I 
don't  know  who  doesn't;  but  I  don't  mind  telling 
you  in  confidence  that  I  hope  she'll  take  Lord  Der- 
byshire. You  see  he  has  some  things  that  Mr. 
Wendern  hasn't,  though  of  course  Mr.  Wendern 
is  richer." 

"  Do  you  think  she  cares  for  Lord  Derbyshire  ? " 

"Well,  we  haven't  talked  it  over — I  never  talk 
about  a  thing  if  I've  set  my  heart  on  it;  it  usually 
frightens  it  away." 

"And  you've  set  your  heart  on  Lord  Derby- 
shire?" 

"I  don't  know  that;  but  I  think  it  would  work 
very  well.  She'll  settle  it  herself  anyhow;  Kath- 
erine  is  a  girl  who  will  have  her  own  way;  young 
people  do  nowadays — it  seems  to  me  that  parents 
are  out  of  fashion,  though  she  is  very  good  to 
me,  very  loving,  and  has  fine  ideas  of  life. " 

"I  am  sure  she  has,"  Mrs.  Berwick  said  softly, 
and  rang  the  bell.  "You'll  stay  and  have  some 
tea  with  me,  dear  Mrs.  Fiffer?— do!'* 

"It  is  very  nice  of  you  to  ask  me,"  Mrs.  Fiffer 
sat  down  again,  "I  really  should  like  a  cup; 
but  are  you  sure  you  are  not  expecting  Mr.  Wen- 
dern back  soon?" 

168 


Gave  a  Party 

"No,  not  till  to-morrow  morning." 

"Well,  then,  it  won't  matter  if  I  stay.  I  always 
think  that  when  a  man  comes  home  from  his 
office  an  outside  woman  shouldn't  be  about;  he 
doesn't  want  to  see  one  till  he  has  put  himself 
into  a  good  humour.  Of  course,  his  wife  is  differ- 
ent; she  should  be  there,  except  now  and  then, 
just  to  let  him  find  out  that  it  isn't  nearly  as  com- 
fortable without  her ' 

"Oh,  how  wise  you  are,  I  shall  remember  that." 

"Especially  if  he's  a  middle-aged  man,"  Mrs. 
Fiffer  added — again  significantly. 

Mrs.  Berwick  shook  her  head,  and  said  with  a 
little  laugh  and  almost  a  blush,  "You  are  so 
wicked." 

"I  wonder  if  you'd  care  to  come  in  to-morrow 
afternoon  and  see  a  box  of  hats  we  are  expecting 
over  from  Paris?"  Mrs.  Fiffer  asked,  when  she  had 
finished  her  second  cup.  "It  might  amuse  you 
and,  if  you  found  one  you  liked  very  much,  why, 
you  might  be  willing  to  let  me  make  you  a  little 
present?" 

The  answer  came  with  alacrity,  "  It  would  be  too 
lovely.  May  I  really?" 

"I'll  be  delighted  to  see  you."  The  kind 
American  was  thinking  that  she  would  like  to 
make  the  little  woman  look  nice  for  Mr.  Parker. 
"And,  if  it's  really  convenient,  I'll  expect  you  at 

169 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

four  o'clock,"  she  said;  "then  we  shall  get  a  good 
look  at  them  before  Katherine  arrives."  The 
clock  struck  six  as  she  left  the  house. 

Wendern,  standing  by  Frensham  Pond,  was  say- 
ing to  himself,  "Twenty-four  hours  more  and  I 
shall  see  her." 


170 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  morning-room  was  empty  the  next  after- 
noon— the  day  that  Katherine  was  coming 
back — when  Rogers,  hesitating  and  doubtful, 
showed  in  a  big  good-tempered-looking  man,  dark, 
quick-eyed,  and  sleek. 

"Ah,  a  charming  room,  but  there's  nobody 
here,"  he  said. 

Rogers  looked  at  him  again.  The  day  had  been 
an  eventful  one  in  the  household;  for  downstairs 
there  was  the  catastrophe  that  had  long  been  loom- 
ing, and  he  was  prepared  for  anything;  but  in 
spite  of  a  very  considerable  experience  he  was  un- 
able to  make  up  his  mind  whether  this  visitor,  with 
the  pleasant  confident  air,  was  a  dun  or  not.  "  Mr. 
Wendern  will  probably  be  in  soon,"  he  said  in  a 
fencing  tone,  anxious  not  to  give  his  master  away 
if  he  could  help  it. 

"Tell  him  that  Mr.  Christopher  Lant  is  waiting 
to  see  him." 

"A — friend,  may  I  ask?" 

"A  friend,"  the  other  answered  promptly, 
"a  very  old  friend." 


George  Wendern 

Rogers  was  visibly  cheered  up,  and  his  manners 
improved.  "He's  certain  to  be  in  directly,  sir. 
I  thought  Mrs.  Berwick  was  here." 

"Mrs.  Berwick — who's  she?" 

"Lady-housekeeper,  sir,  she's  probably  gone 
across  the  garden  to  Mrs.  FifFer's — the  window  is 
open  and  I  see  the  key's  gone,"  he  had  looked  for 
it  on  the  writing-table. 

"Fiffer,— Mrs.  J.  B.  Fiffer  of  New  York?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Mrs.  and  Miss  Fiffer  live  at  one  of 
those  houses,  also  called  Princes  Gate,  sir,  that  go 
down  Exhibition  Road  away  from  the  Park.  The 
garden  belongs  to  all  the  houses. "  He  was  proud 
of  the  superior  position  of  the  one  he  was  in. 

"Of  course.  No  doubt  Miss  FirFer  comes  to  see 
Mrs.  Berwick  sometimes?" 

"Very  often,  sir,  and  Mrs.  Fiffer  too;  they're 
great  friends  of  Mr.  Wendern's. " 

"I  see,"  Lant  turned  away  with  a  smile  of  satis- 
faction. When  he  was  alone  he  went  round  the 
room,  quick  and  alert,  "Miss  Fiffer!"  he  chuckled. 
He  sat  down,  and  appeared  to  value  in  his  own 
mind  each  separate  piece  of  furniture.  Presently, 
for  his  ears  were  very  acute,  he  cocked  his  head 
and  listened,  then  quickly  took  up  "The  Morning 
Post,"  and  was  deep  in  it  when  Rogers  re-entered 
and  arranged  a  little  table.  The  striking  of  a 
match  seemed  to  startle  him.  "You  needn't 

172 


Gave  a  Party 

light  the  lamp,"  he  said  blandly,  "I  don't  drink 
tea." 

"Thank  you,  sir."  Rogers  discreetly  vanished. 

Lant  let  the  paper  rest  on  his  knees  and  surveyed 
the  room  again,  smiling  as  if  satisfied  with  him- 
self and  the  world.  "Very  comfortable  indeed; 
what  with  the  lady-housekeeper  and  Miss  Fiffer 
over  the  way,"  he  gave  another  chuckle,  "couldn't 
be  better,  in  fact.  It's  a  wonderful  thing  how  this 
world  has  turned  top  to  bottom.  Wendern,  dear 
chap,  would  have  been  a  duke,  if  he  hadn't  made 
the  mistake  of  being  born  in  the  colonies;  and  a 
good  many  of  us  had  not  had  the  privilege  of 
sitting  down  in  a  room  of  this  sort  five-and-twenty 
years  ago.  We've  made  the  haughty  ones  whistle; 
I  wonder  what  they  think  of  Park  Lane  since 
South  Africa,  and  the  Canadian  lumber  trade, 
and  a  Land  Syndicate  or  two,  took  it  in  hand — " 
He  stopped  and  listened  again.  "The  worst  of 
these  mansions  is  that  you  are  generally  too  far 
off  to  hear  the  latch-key  put  deftly  into  the  front 
door — there's  a  good  deal  of  unnecessary  solem- 
nity left  about  the  upper  class. " 

The  next  moment  Wendern  entered.  Lant  went 
forward  quickly.  "Dear  chappie,"  he  said,  "how 
are  you?" 

The  tone  that  answered  him  was  not  cordial. 
"When  did  you  arrive?" 

173 


George  Wendern 

"An  hour  ago.  We  motored  to  Havre  immedi- 
ately on  getting  your  telegram  yesterday  morning. " 

Wendern  noticed  the  "we"  but  made  no  com- 
ment. "Havre?" 

"Havre — and  crossed  in  the  yacht  to  South- 
ampton. But  the  railway  company,  like  every- 
thing else  in  this  country  now,  truckles  to  the 
democracy  and  only  puts  on  its  trains  at  hours  that 
will  suit  its  business  population."  He  was  evi- 
dently talking  to  cover  the  awkwardness  of  Wen- 
dern's  greeting.  "In  the  good  times  that  are  gone 
they  would  have  had  trains  awaiting  the  conven- 
ience of  yacht-owners.  However,  luckily  there 
was  lunch  to  fill  in  time — I'm  told  it's  correct 
to  say  luncheon  now — and  a  train  came  along  at 
the  end  of  it.  You  were  evidently  in  a  great  hurry 
to  see  me,  so  I  thought  I  had  better  hurry  here  at 
once." 

"You  ought  to  have  come  a  week  ago. "  Wen- 
dern sat  down  and  faced  him. 

"Paris,  and  Naples  before  it,  what  could  you 
expect?"  Lant  waited  a  moment.  "You  seemed 
to  think  we  ought  to  do  something  in  Great  St. 
Helens  to  keep  them  quiet?  Curious  people — 
shareholders. " 

There  was  no  answer.  Wendern's  thoughts  had 
gone  back  to  the  clearing  and  the  little  procession 
across  it,  with  Lant  in  undisguised  grief.  He  had 

174 


Gave  a  Party 

been  an  alert,  underfed-looking  man  then,  with 
an  appealing  look  in  his  dark  eyes — an  appeal  to 
the  world  to  be  generous  to  him.  It  had  been  an- 
swered, and  he  had  changed:  the  alertness  was 
there  still,  but  the  look  in  his  eyes  was  triumphant; 
the  mouth  closed  more  firmly,  the  manner  was 
pleasant  but  overbearing. 

"We  will  arrange  a  few  details  for  the  meeting," 
he  said,  puzzled  at  Wendern's  silence.  "Then  I 
can  get  back  to  Southampton.  I  don't  want  to 
be  in  London  longer  than  is  necessary. " 

"You  must  make  things  clear  about  the  Syndi- 
cate— they  have  been  getting  unpleasant." 

"You  should  have  tempered  the  wind  to  the 
shorn  lambs, "  Lant  said  smilingly. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"What  I  say." 

"You  wired  to  Derbyshire  that  it  was  doing 
brilliantly?" 

"Of  course " 

"Why  did  your  reports  cease?" 

"There  weren't  any  to  send." 

"You  could  have  sent  some  account  of  the  prog- 
ress of  the  railway.  You  said  a  year  ago  that 
it  was  nearly  completed. " 

"No,  dear  chappie — only  marked  out." 

"You  sent  photographs  of  the  line." 

"Of    what    it    would    be — rather    well    done, 

175 


George  Wendern 

weren't  they  ?     Is  there  a  whisky-and-soda  about 
the  place?" 

Wendern  rang  the  bell  impatiently  and  waited 
till  his  visitor  had  helped  himself  copiously. 

"There  are  all  sorts  of  rumours  in  the  city," 
he  said,  "that  you  bought  the  Estates  for  a  song, 
not  for  the  £50,000  you  professed  to  pay,  that 
they  are  worth  nothing,  that  the  shareholders  will 
lose  their  money. " 

"Quite  so,"  Lant  chuckled,  "these  things  are 
always  said  of  this  sort  of  undertaking,  and  oc- 
casionally they  are  true.  Of  course  I  got  the  Es- 
tates for  a  smaller  sum  than  appeared  on  the  pros- 
pectus, but  my  business  capacity  deserved  its 
reward.  As  for  their  being  worth  nothing,  when 
more  money  has  been  spent  on  them — why,  they 
will  represent  it.  You  can't  have  wool  without 
sheep." 

"Is  the  thing  a  swindle?" 

"No,  dear  chappie,  it's  a  Syndicate.  Let  us 
be  serious.  I  came  over  here  and  saw  that  Lon- 
don had  more  money  than  was  good  for  it;  that 
it  spent  too  much  on  eating  and  drinking  and  enter- 
taining— in  fact,  that  it  was  becoming  apoplectic. 
I  felt  that  a  little  blood-letting  would  be  an  ex- 
cellent remedy  for  some  of  the  criminalities  of 
modern  life, — ever  heard  the  popular  preachers  go 
for  them,  or  read  the  lady  novelists?" 

176 


Gave  a  Party 

"No,"  impatiently. 

"I  always  do.  They  indicate  the  direction  of 
the  wind.  I  was  bored  in  country-houses,  shocked 
at  the  inanities  of  the  men,  the  extravagance  of 
the  women,  the  devotion  to  Bridge,  the  repletion 
of  people,  chiefly  of  those  who  had  made  money 
[too  quickly — it  often  has  a  curiously  ill  effect. 
I  felt  myself  to  be  an  apostle  of  an  excellent  move- 
ment that  goes  about  expressing  itself  in  joint- 
stock  companies  with  one-pound  shares.  I  said 
to  myself,  *  A  little  Syndicate  is  an  excellent  exer- 
cise,'— or  shall  we  say  discipline?  I  saw  that 
anything  you  backed  would  go  down,  or  rather  up 
— and  remembered  the  Bangor  Estates.  Luckily 
for  us,  rubber  had  not  yet  developed  into  a  boom. 
I  say  luckily,  for  two  shillings  is  a  trivial  sum  for  a 
share."  He  took  some  more  whisky.  Wendern 
was  silent  and  he  went  on,  "Still  our  next  move 
might  be  in  the  rubber  direction;  I  have  my  eye 
on  a  little-known  island  somewhere — let  us  say  be- 
tween Sumatra  and  Borneo;  the  bloodhounds,  by 
which  I  mean  the  gold-hounds,  have  not  spotted  it. 
If  our  present  deal  fails  we  might  fall  back  on  it." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  the  Estates  are 
worthless  ? " 

"Not  at  all;  they  cover  an  enormous  area,  and 
were  said  to  have  resources — see  our  prospectus. 
They  only  require  a  few  thousands  to  develop 

177 


George  Wendern 

them,  a  railway  to  the  coast  two  hundred  miles 
away — inducements  to  settlers ' 

"What  have  you  done  with  the  money  that  was 
subscribed  for  working  expenses?" 

"We  have  run  up  some  shanties,  marked  out  a 
couple  of  roads  and  a  railway,  indicated  a  possible 
gold  mine — for  anything  is  possible  in  this  world, 
and  while  there's  life  there's  hope — agreed  on  the 
site  of  a  new  township,  constructed  some  photo- 
graphs— that  traction-engine  looked  very  well, 
didn't  it?  we  brought  it  five  hundred  miles — 
sent  out  a  great  deal  of  printed  matter,  and  we  are 
waiting  for  more  money.  There  is  none  to  go  on 
with." 

Wendern  was  losing  his  temper.  "Would  you 
be  good  enough  to  tell  me  something  about  the 
Directors  over  there?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  Lant  answered  softly.  "For,  let  us 
indulge  in  the  luxury  of  truth,  there  is  nothing 
to  tell.  They  gave  us  the  use  of  their  names. 
They  had  nothing  else  to  give — nothing  at 
all." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  no  better  than  a 
thief."  Wendern  had  risen  to  his  feet;  he  was 
calm,  but  he  looked  dangerous. 

Lant  saw  it  and  was  amused.  "Go  gently, 
sonnie,  go  gently,"  he  said,  and  took  some  more 
whisky. 

178 


Gave  a  Party 

"Do  you  know  what  this  means?" 

"Of  course.  I  paved  the  way  for  it  and  wired  to 
some  of  the  important  shareholders,  and  one  or 
two  Directors  of  the  Derbyshire  type,  that  the 
Syndicate  was  doing  brilliantly.  I  told  them  that 
I  should  be  at  the  Grosvenor  Hotel  immediately— 
you  remember  what  I  said  last  time  about  the  Carl- 
ton,  dear  chappie,  too  frivolous  for  serious-minded 
people  like  ourselves,  our — our  clients  will  ap- 
preciate the  change,  and  be  delighted  to  hear  that 
we're  going  to  reconstruct.  The  new  shares  will 
be  credited  with  155.  paid." 

"We  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  Wendern 
said  firmly,  "and  the  whole  thing  shall  be  ex- 
posed." 

Lant  went  to  the  wide-open  French  window  and 
closed  it.  "I  never  like  my  left-hand  neighbour 
to  know  what  my  right  hand  is  doing,"  he  said; 
then  his  tone  changed.  "Now,  it's  time  we  talked 
plainly.  Syndicates  are  made  every  day  in  the 
week;  people  speculate  and  lose  their  money,  make 
more,  and  lose  it  again.  Don't  be  a  fool,  George. 
I  had  the  cream  off  the  last  deal,  we'll  reconstruct 
and  you  shall  have  the  cream  off  this  one — or  the 
larger  share." 

"There  won't  be  any  more  cream.  I'll  take  care 
of  that.  The  thing  shall  be  wound  up. " 

"That  would  be  awkward  for  you  as  Managing 
179 


George  Wendern 

Director,"  Lant  said  suavely,  "especially  at  the 
present  moment.  You  are  on  the  point  of  getting 
out  of  the  Derryford  lawsuit,  it  will  be  decided  in 
a  few  days " 

"Next  week.  It  has  dragged  on  longer  than 
was  expected." 

"Next  week,  at  any  rate,  and  a  large  fortune 
will  then  be  at  your  disposal." 

"It  may  go  against  me." 

"It  can't.  And — there's  Miss  Fiffer,  and  her 
millions. " 

Wendern  looked  up  quickly.  "What  do  you 
mean  ? " 

"I  mean  Miss  Fiffer.  Like  the  rest  of  her  sex, 
she  has  probably  succumbed  to  your  fascinations." 

"Be  good  enough  not  to  speak  of  her " 

"I  won't,  dear  chappie,  since  it  vexes  you.  I 
merely  mentioned  her  name,  together  with  the 
Dock  business,  to  show  you  that  to  make  a  scandal 
of  so  trifling  a  matter  as  the  Bangor  Syndicate 
would  be  cutting  off  your  nose  to  spite  your  face. " 

"There  are  not  only  rich  people  in  this  thing  but 
others;  some  of  them  came  to  the  office  yesterday, 
in  that  deputation,  who  have  risked  all  they  have 
in  the  world. " 

"The  recklessness  of  such  people  ought  to  be 
checked." 

"Many  of  them  took  shares,  not  merely  on  your 
1 80 


Gave  a  Party 

representation,  but  because  my  name  was  an  hon- 
ourable one." 

"A  priceless  possession ' 

"We've  known  each  other  twenty  years," 
Wendern  said  slowly,  "and  lately  I  have  been  try- 
ing hard  to  believe  that  you  are  not  a  scoundrel. " 

"Quite  right,  I'm  not  one,"  Lant  answered. 
"I've  a  sense  of  humour  and  no  sentiment." 
Then  his  manner  changed  again,  and  this  time 
there  came  into  it  a  human  quality  that  had  be- 
guiled many  in  that  late  summer  when  he  first 
introduced  the  Syndicate.  "But  if  I've  no  senti- 
ment," he  went  on,  "I  don't  forget  that  a  good 
many  years  ago  we  stood  together  by  poor  Loo's 
deathbed,"  he  took  a  gulp  from  the  glass  on  the 
table,  "you  were  more  to  her  than  you  ever  im- 
agined; no  fault  of  yours,  George,  I  know  that,  I 
don't  suppose  you  ever  dreamt  it,  and  I  believe 
that  what  you  did  you  did  for  me. " 

"  I  did, "  Wendern  said,  almost  to  himself.  "  She 
was  an  angel  to  you,  Kit. "  It  was  the  first  time 
he  had  called  him  by  the  old  name. 

Lant  nodded.  "After  she'd  gone,  a  year  or 
two,  wasn't  it?  you  lent  me  that  £15,000." 

"I  was  glad  to  do  it." 

"  It  worked  like  a  charm.  Everything  I  touched 
afterwards  turned  to  gold." 

"Then,  by  the  memory  of  her  dead  face — and 
181 


George  Wendern 

of  any  way  in  which  you  imagine  I  helped  you 
afterwards — don't  let  the  poor  devils  in  this  thing 
suffer.  Some  of  them  are  very  poor. " 

There  was  a  pause,  in  which  the  old  memories 
that  had  rushed  back  seemed  to  slip  away  from 
Lant.  He  looked  up  with  a  smile.  "Some  of 
them  are  very  fat,  and  live  in  well-feathered  nests." 

Rogers  entered  with  a  letter  on  a  tray. 

"Take  it  away,"  Wendern  said  impatiently. 
It  was  only  a  dun,  he  thought. 

"It  came  by  hand,  sir,  and  it's  marked  'imme- 
diate.'" 

"Oh !  I'll  ring  if  there's  an  answer. "  He  opened 
the  envelope  mechanically,  a  slip  of  paper  fell  from 
it;  he  picked  it  up  and  his  expression  changed  as 
he  read  the  letter.  "What  a  good' chap.  A  man 
I  lent  £500  to,  some  years  ago,  has  returned  it; 
the  first  opportunity  he  has  had,  he  says." 

"Curious  thing  to  do."  Lant  took  some  more 
whisky. 

"To  you,  perhaps,"  Wendern  said,  with  a  little 
contemptuous  movement. 

"You  are  trying  to  insult  me,  but  I  have  an  ex- 
cellent temper,  dear  chappie.  Now  then,  we  won't 
talk  any  more  nonsense,  for  I  want  to  get  away,  as 
I  have  mentioned  already — the  Briar  Rose  is  in 
Southampton  Water — pretty  name,  eh?  a  pretty 
little  woman  christened  her,  she's  on  board  and 

182 


Gave  a  Party 

wants  to  be  taken  round  the  Isle  of  Wight.  The 
General  Meeting  takes  place  this  day  week.  I 
hope  notices  have  been  sent?  Thursday,  I  think 
we  said,  at  12.30?" 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  them  the  truth?" 

"No." 

"Then  I  will.  One  of  the  men  said  yesterday 
that  this  sort  of  thing  ought  to  be  a  capital  offence, 
and  he  was  right.  We  deserve  to  be  strung  up, 
both  of  us — you  for  a  knave  and  I  for  a  fool." 

"But  then  we  couldn't  pull  each  other's  legs, 
dear  chappie." 

"Why,  even  Dawson  is  in  it  for  £250." 

"The  reconstruction  will  only  cost  him  £62, 
108." 

"It  shan't  be  done." 

"Then  give  them  their  money  back." 

"Give  them  their  money  back!"  Wendern 
exclaimed.  "I'm  broke  with  the  rest,  and  have 
nothing  but  a  large  over-draft  at  the  bank. " 

"As  soon  as  the  Derryford  Dock  case  is  finished 
you  will  be  almost  a  millionaire  again,  for  I  know 
that  you  have  other  contingencies  waiting.  The 
verdict  will  be  cabled  over, — it's  quite  remark- 
able how  much  interest  they  take  in  the  case  even 
here,  and  within  an  hour  your  bankers  will  cash 
your  cheques  for  any  amount  you  please." 

"And  if  it  goes  against  me  or  drags  on " 

183 


George  Wendern 

"One  moment,  there's  a  lady  at  the  window. 
Miss  Fiffer?  No;  Mrs.  Berwick,  I  should  say, 
judging  from  appearances. " 

She  was  looking  through  the  glass,  embarrassed 
at  seeing  Lant,  and  carrying  a  new  hat.  Lant 
opened  the  window  and  made  his  best  bow.  He 
evidently  enjoyed  the  little  incident. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,"  Mrs.  Berwick  said  as  she 
stepped  into  the  room.  "I'm  interrupting  you.  I 
didn't  know  you  were  back,  Mr.  Wendern. " 

"Pray,  don't  apologise."  Lant  carefully  shut 
the  window  again.  "I'm  only  his  old  friend, 
Christopher  Lant. " 

"I've  heard  so  much  about  you."  She  held 
out  her  hand. 

He  gave  a  little  laugh  and  looked  into  her  eyes. 
"I'm  sure  of  it.  What  a  delightful  hat,  if  I  may 
venture  to  say  so." 

She  turned  to  Wendern  and  explained.  "I 
went  to  Mrs.  Fiffer's;  she  had  a  box  of  them  just 
over  from  Paris,  and  insisted  on  giving  me  this 
one." 

"A  delightful  one,  as  Lant  says."  Wendern 
tried  to  hide  his  impatience. 

"Mrs.  Fiffer  thought  that  perhaps  you  would 
go  over  to  tea  presently,"  she  went  on.  "Miss 
Fiffer  is  back  earlier  than  she  expected.  I  didn't 
see  her;  she  had  only  just  arrived.  And  I  know 

184 


Gave  a  Party 

they'd  be  delighted  to  see  any  friend  of  yours,"  she 
added,  and  looked  at  Lant  with  a  smile  as  she  went 
towards  the  door.  "Do  forgive  me  for  interrupt- 
ing your  talk.  I  didn't  know  any  one  was  here. " 

Lant  opened  the  door  for  her.  "And  you  want 
to  try  on  the  hat  again,"  he  said. 

"Perhaps  I  do,"  she  said  archly,  though  some- 
how he  reminded  her  of  Mephistopheles.  "I  hope 
we  shall  meet  again,  Mr.  Lant." 

"I  hope  so,"  he  sighed  as  he  shut  the  door. 
"Nice  woman,"  he  said,  turning  to  Wendern, 
"lies  so  easily — wonder  where  you  picked  her  up; 
but  I  mustn't  keep  you  from  Miss  Fiffer.  I  see 
that  everything  will  be  well;  she's  expecting 
you.  And  I'm  off  to  the  country  till  Wednesday 
night,  when  I  shall  return  for  the  meeting  on 
Thursday. " 

"It  won't  take  place.     I  shall  oppose  it." 

"Are  you  mad?" 

"No,  for  the  moment  I  am  sane." 

Lant  turned  sharply.  "Face  it,"  he  said. 
"Unless  we  reconstruct  there'll  be  the  deuce  of  a 
row,  and  a  few  strange  proceedings  will  follow. 
There  are  some  poor  devils  in  this  thing,  as  you 
say,  but  some  others  have  come  in,  not  originally 
but  lately,  who  are  not  poor.  They'll  like  getting 
their  knife  into  us,  and  won't  grudge  the  expense 
of  having  it  sharpened. " 

185 


George  Wendern 

"Reconstruction  will  only  delay  it." 

"It  will  give  us  time,  and  time  coins  more 
money  than  a  mint  if  it  is  properly  used.  You 
shall  use  the  money,  and  I'll  use  the  time.  Then, 
what  with  the  lawsuit  and  the  lady" — Wendern 
made  an  impatient  gesture,  "very  well,  then, 
we'll  say  the  lawsuit,  you  will  be  pretty  comfort- 
able." 

"And  the  shareholders  will  be  plundered  again 
in  trying  to  save  what  they  have  already  lost. " 

"They'll  never  speculate  any  more.  You  under- 
rate experience,  dear  chappie.  Experience  is  the 
most  valuable  thing  in  the  world.  Hardly  any 
price  is  too  dear  to  pay  for  it." 

"It  shan't  be  done.  I  shall  oppose  the  recon- 
struction and  face  the  music." 

"Then  the  poor  devils  will  lose  all  their  money. 
The  shares  are  only  worth  8s.  6d.  to-day;  though, 
as  they  have  no  official  quotation,  the  simpletons 
don't  know  it,  the  others  do.  Think  what  you 
are  doing.  Some  of  the  shareholders  are  not 
pretty,  and  will  rather  like  making  a  noise.  On 
the  other  hand,  we  can  put  a  very  tidy  re- 
construction scheme  before  them.  I  have  it 
ready. " 

A  sudden  idea  struck  Wendern.  "Look  here, 
Lant,"  he  said,  "take  up  the  small  holdings — the 
widows  and  parsons  and  petty  clerks,  Dawson  and 

1 86 


Gave  a  Party 

the  rest — give  them  back  their  money  now,  at 
once,  and  I'll  not  oppose  the  reconstruction  next 
week.  It  will  cost  you  well  under  £15,000.  I  am 
only  asking  you  to  do  this  for  the  people  who  can't 
afford  to  lose;  the  others  live,  as  you  say,  in  well- 
feathered  nests:  let  them  pay  for  their  impru- 
dence. If  the  Dock  case  is  decided  in  my  favour, 
I'll  pay  off  all  those  I  am  responsible  for  myself,  or 
be  an  accomplice." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Many  different  ex- 
pressions flitted  across  Lant's  face.  The  one  it 
wore  when  he  answered  was  kindly.  "Well,"  he 
said  slowly,  "I'll  do  it — just  to  please  you." 

"Promise — give  me  your  word." 

"All  right.  I  give  you  my  word.  I'll  write 
to  Dawson  to-night  to  send  them  transfers.  They 
shall  get  their  cheques  before  the  meeting  on 
Thursday.  Will  that  do?"  He  looked  at  his 
watch.  "I  mustn't  stay  any  longer." 

Wendern  gave  a  gasp  of  relief.  "You  have 
taken  a  great  load  off  my  mind,"  he  said.  "The 
Dock  case  is  certain  to  be  decided  before  the  meet- 
ing; the  moment  it  is,  those  I  brought  in,  rich  or 
poor,  shall  get  out  too,  scot-free.  And  even  if 
I  can't  do  it,  as  I  say,  I  won't  oppose  the  recon- 
struction scheme." 

Then  Lant  was  satisfied.  "Good,"  he  said, 
and  went  towards  the  door;  the  pleasant  expres- 

187 


George  Wendern 

sion  was  still  on  his  face,  his  voice  was  cordial  and 
genuine.  "Look  here,  Wendern,"  he  hesitated, 
and  considered,  "we're  old  pals  and  I'm  pretty 
comfortable — thanks  to  you  in  the  beginning.  I 
can  put  £10,000  at  your  disposal  if  you  want  it — 
but  you  won't.  Tell  me  on  Wednesday;  I  shall 
be  at  the  Grosvenor  between  five  and  six  o'clock. 
Come  to  me  there,  if  you  don't  mind,  I  shan't 
have  time  to  get  here.  The  little  woman  will  be 
with  me,  she'll  figure  in  the  highly  respectable 
hotel  books  as  Mrs.  Lant,  and  I  must  take  her 
out  to  dinner  and  the  play  that  night. " 

"You  mean  you  would  lend  it  to  me?"  Wen- 
dern stared  at  him  in  surprise. 

"Yes.     A  pal's  a  pal,  dear  chappie." 

"If  the  lawsuit  goes  against  me?" 

Lant  nodded,  "All  the  same,  if  the  lawsuit  goes 
against  you,  but  it  won't.  The  money  shall  be 
at  your  disposal.  This  house  smells  of  orange 
blossom,  I  noticed  it  as  I  entered — coming  events 
casting  their  perfume  before,  perhaps?" 

"There  are  some  trees  in  the  conservatory,  I'll 
show  them  to  you,"  Wendern  answered.  "Lant, 
if  you  really  mean  what  you  say  about  that 
£10,000 — if  you  will  advance  it,  then,  whatever 
happens,  I  will  arrange  to  pay  off  the  shareholders 
who  came  into  the  Syndicate  on  the  strength  of 
my  name — all  of  them — it  will  be  enough. " 

188 


Gave  a  Party 

"Waste  of  money,  dear  chappie,  but  by  all 
means  if  it  pleases  you." 

"Can  you  let  me  have  it  immediately?" 

Lant  considered  a  moment.  "You  shall  have 
it  next  Wednesday  when  you  come  to  the  Gros- 
venor;  we'll  have  our  final  talk  before  the  meeting 
at  the  same  time.  But  you  may  rely  on  it,  and 
can  set  the  thing  going  at  once,  have  the  transfers 
filled  in  if  you  really  mean  to  encourage  these 
foolish  people  in  gambling." 

"Good-bye,"  Wendern  laughed  and  held  out 
his  hand  cordially. 

It  was  just  ten  minutes  to  six — and  Katherine 
had  returned.  The  way  was  clear.  At  the  lonely 
little  hotel  at  Farnham,  in  the  quiet  night  he 
had  stood  looking  over  the  ponds,  and  told  him- 
self that  between  him  and  her  there  stood  a  crowd 
of  people  who  had  been  led  into  loss,  some  of  them 
into  ruin,  through  his  carelessness  and  folly. 
ISow  they  had  stepped  aside  and  he  could  go  to 
her.  Lant  would  pay  off  the  little  shareholders 
and,  come  what  would,  whichever  way  the  lawsuit 
went,  those  who  had  come  into  the  Syndicate  on 
the  strength  of  the  London  manager's  name  would 
be  paid  off  on  Wednesday  night;  they  would  have 
no  part,  no  stake,  in  the  meeting  on  Thursday. 
The  way  was  clear. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN  the  drawing-room  at  Mrs.  Fiffer's  the  usual 
tea  business  was  going  on.  Lord  Derbyshire 
appeared  soon  after  Katherine  arrived,  but  she 
took  no  notice  of  him;  she  sat  in  a  corner  of  the 
canvas-sheltered  balcony  and  seemed  deaf  to 
everything  in  the  room  beside  her.  Her  face  was 
turned  towards  the  end  of  Exhibition  Road;  she 
could  see  the  hurrying  traffic  along  the  main  road, 
the  cabs  going  in  and  out  Alexandra  Gate  and  the 
trees  beyond.  Round  the  corner,  on  the  right,  was 
Wendern's  house, — she  was  conscious  of  it  every 
moment.  Presently  Derbyshire  went  to  the  bal- 
cony; it  seemed  to  worry  her. 

"Go  away,"  she  said,  "I  want  to  be  left  alone." 
It  was  half  a  snub,  half  an  entreaty.  "I  can't 
talk — please  go. " 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  "All  right,"  he  said, 
"I  understand.  I  feel  a  bit  awkward  myself,  as 
if  something  was  the  matter,  you  know." 

Something  was  evidently  the  matter  with  Mrs. 
Fiffer;  a  little  group  of  visitors  had  dropped  in, 
they  irritated  her,  she  wanted  to  get  rid  of  them 
in  order  to  talk  to  Katherine  and  perhaps  to  Derby- 

190 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

shire.  At  last  she  remembered  a  picture  in  her 
boudoir, — the  boudoir  that  she  looked  upon  as 
merely  a  foolish  little  sitting-room,  a  worry  to  use, 
and  containing  a  great  many  unnecessary  things 
which  the  housemaid  spent  a  long  time  in  dusting. 

"I  think  you  said  you  had  to  go  pretty  soon, 
Lady  Carter-Leigh?"  she  said  with  a  smile,  to 
cover  her  artfulness.  "Now,  I'd  like,  if  you  don't 
mind,  to  ask  your  opinion  of  one  or  two  little 
things  I  bought  at  Christie's  last  week, — daresay 
you'd  all  like  to  come?"  she  looked  at  the  others. 
"There's  a  picture,  and  an  old  crystal  jug  with  a 
metal  stand  to  it — don't  know  why  it  has  it,  I'm 
sure.  Perhaps  you'd  be  able  to  tell  me  if  it's  a 
curiosity, — I  can't  guess;  but  I'd  like  to  know 
what  you  think."  In  a  moment  she  had  swept 
her  callers  away,  and  she  had  not  the  least  inten- 
tion of  letting  them  re-enter  the  drawing-room 
that  afternoon. 

When  they  were  alone  Derbyshire  went  towards 
Katherine  again.  "I  say,  those  Johnnies  have  all 
gone,"  he  said;  "won't  you  talk  to  me  now?" 

She  got  up  and  looked  at  him  bewildered,  as  if 
trying  to  remember  who  he  was  and  why  he  was 
there.  "I  want  you  to  ring  the  bell,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  all  right — funny  thing  to  do — thought  we 
were  going  to  have  a  little  time  together  perhaps?" 

She  took  no  notice,  but  went  back  to  the 
191 


George  Wendern 

deserted  room,  and  spoke  to  the  servant.  "Mr. 
Wendern  will  be  here  immediately,"  she  said; 
"show  him  into  the  library,  and  tell  me  when  he 
comes. " 

"Yes,  Miss." 

"Oh,  I  say,"  put  in  Derbyshire,  "why  shouldn't 
he  be  shown  up?" 

"I  want  to  see  him  alone;  I  am  going  down  in  a 
minute  to  wait  for  him." 

"Well,  I  say,  but  you  know  things  are  different 
now.  Has  there  been  anything — I  mean  why 
should  you  want  to  see  Wendern  alone?" 

She  waited  a  minute,  and  when  she  answered 
her  voice  was  sweet,  but  very  firm.  "We  may 
as  well  settle  things  at  once,  Lord  Derbyshire " 

"But  you're  not  going  to  call  me  Lord  Derby- 
shire any  longer,  are  you?" 

She  shook  her  head  impatiently  as  if  it  were  too 
trivial  a  question  to  consider — "America  is  a  free 
country,"  she  went  on,  "and  I  come  from  it. 
Over  there  women  have  their  friends — men  friends 
as  well  as  women  friends — and  I  must  have  mine 
if  I  am  to  live  over  here;  you  must  understand 
that  and  not  worry  me.  I'm  going  down  to  see 
George  Wendern.  You  had  better  stay  here  and 
have  a  talk  with  mother — she  is  longing  for  it; 
she  was  taken  by  surprise,  and  before  she  could  say 
anything  those  people  came." 

192 


Gave  a  Party 

"All  right." 

"Then  you  must  go  away;  you  are  dining  here 
to-night,  and  we  shall  meet."  A  clock  on  the 
mantelpiece  struck  with  a  silvery  sound.  "It 
is  time,"  she  said.  "I  told  Mr.  Wendern  to  come 
at  six,  and  he  is  always  punctual.  Ask  mother 
to  come  down  to  the  library  to  me  at  half-past; 
say  I  want  her  to  come." 

"All  right,"  he  said  again,  with  his  foolish  little 
laugh,  "I'll  do  as  I'm  told;  I  always  take  a  hint 
if  it's  large  enough  to  see — pleases  people,  you 
know;  and  I  want  to  please  you  more  than  any  one 
else. "  He  shut  the  door  ceremoniously  after  her, 
came  back  to  the  middle  of  the  room  and  paused. 
"Awfully  nice  girl,"  he  thought,  "but — well, 
I'm  jiggered." 

Half-way  down  she  pulled  up  with  a  gesture  of 
despair,  but  there  was  a  flush  on  her  face,  and 
something  like  a  smile,  a  sorry  frightened  one, 
came  to  her  lips,  as  with  head  erect  she  entered  the 
library.  Wendern  was  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  room.  He  went  forward  as  if  to  take  her  in 
his  arms.  "Katherine — Katherine,  my  dear ' 

She  held  out  her  hands  to  keep  him  off;  the 
dazed  look  that  had  been  on  her  face  on  the  balcony 
returned,  but  she  recovered  quickly.  "I  thought 
we  might  talk  here  by  ourselves,"  she  said. 

He  looked  at  her  doubtfully  before  he  answered. 
"It's  what  I've  been  wishing  for — waiting  for," 

193 


George  Wendern 

but  for  the  life  of  him  he  couldn't  make  another 
movement  till  she  had  spoken  again.  They  stood 
looking  at  each  other.  He  knew  that  she  was 
gathering  courage  to  speak,  and  waited  till  it  came. 

"I've  been  thinking  of  the  other  night  at 
Brighton."  Each  word  seemed  to  be  ground  out 
of  her,  though  her  manner  was  composed.  She 
raised  her  eyes  and  met  his  without  flinching. 

"I  have  thought  of  it  every  hour  since,"  he 
answered  slowly.  "I  shall  remember  your  face 
looking  down  at  the  sea  and  up  at  the  stars,  that 
came  out  twinkling  as  if  asking  whether  they  were 
too  soon,  as  long  as  I  live." 

"I  said  some  things  I  oughtn't  to  have  said. 
I  wish  I  hadn't — that  we  hadn't  taken  that  walk. " 

"Why?    Wern't  they  true?" 

"If  they  were  it  makes  no  difference.  I  wanted 
you  to  come  to-day  to  tell  you — "  her  head 
drooped,  a  break  was  in  her  voice, — "I  don't  feel 
as  if  I  can " 

"Katherine  beloved,  what  is  the  matter?"  He 
went  up  to  her  then  and  tried  to  put  his  arms  round 
her.  She  held  him  off  with  a  movement  that  was 
almost  one  of  distress.  The  flush  on  her  face 
deepened. 

"No,"  she  said,  "you  mustn't.  I  want  to  tell 
you—  '  she  stopped  again. 

"I  want  to  tell  you,"  he  said  passionately,  "but 
194 


Gave  a  Party 

you  know  it,  that  I  love  you — I  love  you.  Why 
won't  you  let  me  say  it?  you  are  more  beautiful 
than  ever  with  that  colour  in  your  face,"  he 
bent  over  her  perplexed  and  wondering.  "I 
didn't  think  any  woman  in  the  world  could  take 
my  life  into  her  hands  as  you  have  done. " 

"You  mustn't  say  it.  That's  why  I  sent  for 
you,  I  wouldn't  let  any  one  else  tell  you. — I'm  en- 
gaged to  Lord  Derbyshire."  She  staggered  to  a 
seat  and  sat  down,  waiting  for  him  to  speak. 

"When  did  it  happen?"  he  asked  calmly. 

"Yesterday  afternoon — he  telegraphed  early 
that  he  was  coming,  that  was  why  I  stayed  on." 

"I  saw  him  yesterday.  I  expect  he  was  hurry- 
ing off  then.  Had  you  made  up  your  mind  when 
I  came  the  other  day?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "After  you'd  gone  I 
thought  it  all  out — I  told  you  I  had  to  do  that. " 

"Yes.     But  I  don't  understand  yet?" 

"You  see  you  belong  to  a  New  World  too,  and 
I  should  have  expected  that  you  would  care,  as  I 
do,rfor  the  things  they  have  here — the  things  that 
haven't  had  time  to  grow  up  over  there — we  come 
for  them — we  want  them  and  worship  them;" 
the  last  words  were  said  in  a  low  tone,  as  if  they 
were  a  plea  for  mercy. 

He  looked  at  her  again,  his  voice  was  cynical 
as  he  answered.  "Let's  face  it  squarely.  I  love 

195 


George  Wendern 

you,  and  you  know  it.  The  other  night,  when  we 
stood  together  on  that  white  road  looking  down 
at  the  sea " 

"The  sound  of  it  has  been  in  my  ears  ever 
since,"  she  said  forlornly. 

"There's  nothing  so  wise  in  creation — it  knows 
all  the  eternal  truths  and  was  whispering  them 
to  us — that's  why  I  felt  that  you  loved  me;  per- 
haps I  was  a  conceited  ass,  but  I  could  have  sworn 
it,"  he  waited,  but  she  made  no  answer.  "And 
as  I  motored  back,  all  the  way  along  the  road  I 
could  see  your  face  beside  me  and  hear  your  voice, 
as  I'd  seen  it  and  heard  it  an  hour  before.  But 
you  were  thinking  of  Derbyshire,  and  planning  to 
take  him — for  the  things  he  has,  the  things  of  the 
Old  World  that  I  can't  give  you?" 

She  raised  her  head  defiantly.  "American  girls 
come  over  and  marry  for  them.  I  used  to  think 
it  was  just  vanity,  but  it  isn't.  I've  thought  it 
all  out.  Father  went  on  piling  up  money,  but  he 
could  only  spend  it  on  a  house  near  Central  Park, 
and  a  summer  one  on  Long  Island,  and  carriages, 
and  diamonds  newly  come  from  Kimberley " 

"Didn't  they  satisfy  him?" 

"Why,  yes,  well  enough — but  he  wanted  more — 
he  thought  I  should  get  it  for  him.  You  see  they 
didn't  give  him  a  name  written  in  Domesday 
Book,  and  family  castles,  and  armour  in  which  his 

196 


Gave  a  Party 

ancestors  had  gone  to  battle.  We  haven't  got  any- 
thing of  that  sort.  They  have  here;  but  their  best 
things  are  going  to  ruin,  they'll  crumble  away  if 
something  isn't  done,  and  the  country  will  forget 
everything  that's  made  it  what  it  is,  and  helped 
to  fill  Westminster  Abbey " 

"But  what,  in  Heaven's  name,  has  all  this  to 
do  with  you?" 

"That's  where  I  come  in — don't  you  think  it'll 
be  splendid  to  pull  together  an  old  family  like 
Lord  Derbyshire's?"  Her  voice  was  proud,  but 
her  eyes  looked  almost  scared. 

"Good  Lord!"  he  said,  as  if  in  a  dream. 

"He  hasn't  a  penny  to  spend  because  of  the 
mortgages  on  his  property.  He  told  mother  that 
his  fences  were  dropping  to  bits,  and  he  can't  do 
any  of  the  things  he  ought  for  his  tenants.  He 
has  a  castle  that'll  fall  if  money  isn't  spent  on  it. 
It  has  dungeons,  and  a  moat,  and  secret  doors, 
and  all  the  things  one  reads  of  in  history  and  ro- 
mance; but  that  we'll  never  have  in  America  as 
long  as  we  live.  If  something  doesn't  happen  his 
name  will  be  dragged  down  with  his  castle,  he'll 
have  to  go  into  trade — or  something. " 

"Well?    Why  shouldn't  he?" 

"It  must  be  pretty  bad  to  do  that  when  you've 
ancestors  who  went  to  the  Crusades.  No  one 
who  has  family  pictures  and  armour  at  first-hand 

197 


George  Wendern 

ought  to  be  allowed  to  do  anything  that  is  common. 
My  money  will  set  the  whole  thing  right — it'll 
set  a  little  bit  of  this  beautiful,  wonderful  country 
right — the  peasants  will  come  back  to  live  on  the 
land,  and  we'll  be  there  to  do  things  for  them,  to 
make  them  content  as  they  used  to  be  centuries 
ago — "  she  stopped  as  if  her  courage  had  given  out, 
and  waited  for  him  to  speak. 

Taken  aback  by  the  whole  argument,  he  stood 
staring  at  her.  "It  all  seems  highly  poetical, 
no  doubt,"  he  said  at  last.  "And  Derbyshire 
himself,  how  does  he  come  into  the  picture?" 

"When  he's  rich  again  and  among  the  right 
people  he'll  be  the  real  thing  once  more " 

"In  fact,  you  are  going  to  marry  him  in  order 
to  do  up  his  property  and  make  him  solvent;  and 
you  imagine  that  he'll  turn  into  a  noble  of  the 
olden  time  again?" 

"Perhaps."  There  seemed  to  be  an  entreaty 
in  her  voice  when  she  went  on,  not  to  make  a 
sorry  joke  of  what  was  deadly  earnest  to  her. 
"  But  it  isn't  for  him,  it  is  for  what  he  represents. 
If  you  and  I  married,  no  one  would  be  the  better 
for  it  but  our  two  selves;  besides,  what  good  then 
would  the  money  be  that  father  spent  all  those 
years  piling  up?  I  want  to  do  my  very  best 
by  it — by  all  the  years  of  his  work  that  it  repre- 
sents— to  weave  it  in  with  the  history  and  poetry 

198 


Gave  a  Party 

over  here,  the  things  that  are  beautiful  and  pictu- 
resque, and  a  part  of  England  itself,  the  real  Eng- 
land that  was,  before  it  was  spoilt  by  shoddy  rich 
people  who  have  no  sense  of  what  they  ought  to 
do  with  money;  I  have  a  sense — I'll  spend  it  prop- 
erly. "  Her  voice  was  passionate;  it  was  impossible 
to  help  feeling  how  keenly  she  had  thought  it  out. 

"You  are  not  in  love  with  him?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"And  Derbyshire — is  he  in  love  with  you?" 

"He  likes  me  well  enough — and  he's  doing  the 
right  thing,  as  I  am.  Surely  you  know  how  it  is 
with  all  us  Americans  who  come  over  and  marry 
aristocrats — or  aristocrats  who  go  over  there  and 
marry  us;  we  know  well  enough  what  we're  doing, 
and  so  do  they — we  don't  make  any  mistake 
about  it;  but  we  each  give  the  other  a  good  deal. 
I  feel  I'm  putting  father's  money  to  the  right  use. 
Why,  his  name  will  have  to  be  in  Debrett  and  a 
dozen  other  places  where  nothing  else  in  the  world 
could  put  it.  I  should  be  wicked  just  to  think  of 
myself. " 

"A  good  many  of  your  countrywomen  have  done 
what  you  are  going  to  do,  and  rather  enjoy  it. " 

"You  don't  suppose  they've  done  it  for  love  of 
the  men,  do  you?  They've  done  it  for  the  same 
reason  that  I'm  going  to  do  it — and  it  isn't  all 
unselfishness — don't  think  that." 

199 


George  Wendern 

"I  don't.  You  want  to  be  a  peeress,  I  sup- 
pose. Your  money  and  Derbyshire  will  make 
you  one " 

"But  he  couldn't  go  on  unless  something  was 
done,  and  that  old  house  prevented  from  falling 
to  bits,"  she  urged,  as  if  she  thought  he  would 
come  to  see  the  point  of  her  argument. 

"Why  didn't  you  ask  Kenton  the  other  night  to 
give  him  a  few  thousands?" 

"  He  has  a  son  of  his  own,  why  should  he  ?  He 
doesn't  want  to  pull  down  one  house  to  build  up 
another  that  perhaps  isn't  as  old  as  his  own — I 
don't  know."  She  stopped  for  a  moment.  "You 
think  it  vulgar  of  me,  or  'snobby'  as  the  English 
people  love  to  say.  I  heard  it  in  your  voice  just 
now  when  you  said  I  wanted  to  be  a  peeress.  I 
do  in  a  way,  but  it  isn't — snobby,  or  vulgar;  it's 
because  being  one  is  part  of  it — part  of  the  things 
that  are  historical — the  things  with  which  I  want 
to  be  identified.  I  don't  want  to  go  driving  motor- 
cars to  Ascot  and  Ranelagh,  to  any  of  the  places 
where  rich  people  go,  or  to  give  big  dinners  with 
too  much  to  eat,  and  big  parties  with  people  at 
them  I  hardly  know,  or  to  lose  money  at  cards; 
I  won't  do  any  of  the  things  that  silly  people 
copied  from  us  in  the  early  days,  for  the  right  peo- 
ple among  us  don't  do  them  now,  they  were  our 

wild  oats " 

200 


Gave  a  Party 

"And  had  you  forgotten  all  this  the  other 
night?" 

"Yes,  I  was  forgetting — I'll  never  forget  again. " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  They  stood  fac- 
ing each  other,  he  still  wonderstruck;  she  with 
a  wild  light  shining  from  her  eyes,  her  hand  at  her 
throat  as  if  to  steady  her  voice,  and  to  force  from 
her  lips  all  that  with  dogged  determination  she 
mean't  to  say.  She  looked  like  a  creature  at  bay, 
half  scared,  but  full  of  a  strange  courage  that 
helped  her  to  forget  the  conflicting  forces  in  her 
heart. 

At  last  Wendern  spoke.  "Well,"  he  said, 
"this  is  a  strange  sideway  into  Hell  for  me,  the 
worst  turn  that  things  have  taken.  I  wonder 
why  it  is  I  love  you?  For  I  do.  I  love  you  so 
much  that  I'd  like  to  throttle  you  as  you  stand 
there — and  kiss  you  till  you  died. " 

"I'd  love  you  to  do  it,"  burst  from  her  lips. 

"Then  in  God's  name  be  natural,"  he  cried, 
springing  forward.  "Let  Derbyshire  have  your 
money,  every  stiver  of  it,  send  it  round  to  him 
packed  in  American  trunks, — but  let  us  be  to- 
gether; you  love  me,  and  you  know  it." 

"Yes,  I  love  you,  and  I  know  it — but  I'm  going 
to  do  what  I  say,  if  I  die  doing  it.  Besides,  he 
couldn't  take  it  without  me.'* 

"Heiresses  are  plentiful  enough.  Let  him  patch 
201 


George  Wendern 

up  his  castle  and  cultivate  his  land  with  some  other 
woman's  fortune.  Your  father  and  mother  mar- 
ried because  they  loved  each  other — man  and 
woman  existed  before  castles  and  aristocrats,  as 
you  call  them,  had  been  invented.  Isn't  that  tra- 
dition enough  for  you  to  carry  on  ?  Do  what  you 
like  with  your  money,  but  let  us  go  away  together, 
back  to  the  New  World — and  you  shall  be  queen 
of  it " 

"No " 

"Yes — yes!"  the  words  rushed  from  him  now 
like  a  torrent.  "We'll  put  up  a  shanty  on  the  spot 
where  my  father  and  mother  were  all  the  world 
to  each  other  when  they  were  poor  and  couldn't 
see  four  meals  ahead.  Let  us  be  poor  and  live 
there  as  they  did,  till  we  can  build  a  palace  and 
buy  a  crown  for  you,  my  dear — my  dear  who  is  a 
fool,  as  all  best  loved  women  are  fools " 

"I  believe  I  should  be  happier,  I  wish  I  were 
a  beggar." 

"Be  one,  as  perhaps  I  may.  Let  us  go  out 
into  the  open,  penniless  together — some  day  we'll 
build  the  palace  and  store  it  with  beautiful  things 
for  all  the  world  to  see — we  shall  be  its  wardens. " 

"You  are  talking  nonsense,  George,"  she  said 
with  a  queer  little  smile,  half  tender,  half  longing. 

Then  suddenly  he  remembered.  "Katherine," 
he  cried,  "it's  just  possible  that  I  shall  be  a  beggar, 

202 


Gave  a  Party 

and  soon — soon,  in  sober  truth."  After  all,  the 
lawsuit  might  fail;  for  the  moment  it  seemed  that 
it  would  mean  salvation  to  him. 

"You?" 

"If  we  went  forth — two  beggars  trudging  along 
the  highway,  or  sitting  by  the  wayside,"  she  looked 
at  him  in  wonder,  "we'd  seek  the  magic  way— 
and  find  it." 

"The  magic  way?" 

"The  dream  way.  Along  it  are  signposts  point- 
ing towards  realities. "  Wendern  the  idealist  and 
dreamer  was -speaking  now. 

For  a  moment  she  hesitated,  then  with  a  gesture 
of  despair  threw  up  her  hands.  "I  mustn't,"  she 
cried,  "I  mustn't.  You  come  from  a  country,  as 
I  do,  where  there's  money,  and  ways  to  get  it,  but 
nothing  else;  and,  between  us,  what  I  owe  my  peo- 
ple bars  the  way.  I've  got  to  do  what  I'm  doing, 
and  you  won't  make  me  turn  away.  I  feel  it's 
great. " 

"Great!  High  God  in  heaven — great!"  Then 
he  was  tender  again.  "Think  what  life  might 
be- 

"  I  know  well  enough — but  I  wouldn't  be  satis- 
fied with  myself;  that's  what  you  don't  see. " 

"Oh,  yes!  I  see.  And  it  hits  me  hard,  as  one's 
virtues  often  do  when  they  round  on  one,  for  I've 
been  thinking  of  the  right  use  of  money  lately. " 

203 


George  Wendern 

"Yes — yes — that's  what  I  mean,  that's  what 
this  will  be.  I  want  to  help  the  world." 

"My  dear,  you  are  a  dreamer — as  I  am." 

"Yes,  I  am  a  dreamer  too,  and  I  mustn't  wake; 
I've  got  to  dream — it's  waking  that  often  brings 
misery."  She  turned  suddenly  upon  him  with 
"I  want  you  to  go;  I  can't  bear  it  any  longer — 
it's  too  much.  I  just  beg  you  to  go.  Nothing 
will  alter  it,  nothing  in  the  world.  I  don't  mean 
it  to  be  altered, "  she  added  in  the  dogged  tone  he 
had  heard  before.  It  kept  him  at  bay:  a  minute 
ago  he  would  have  taken  her  in  his  arms  at  any 
price,  and  kissed  her  a  hundred  times,  feeling  it  to 
be  a  death  song. 

He  went  a  step  backward. 

"I  want  you  to  go,"  she  said  again;  "my  mother 
will  be  here  directly."  Then,  as  if  she  were  still 
trying  to  make  him  see  her  point,  she  went  on,  in 
a  sad  apologetic  voice:  "  She  has  wanted  me  to  do 
•this — and  it  is  great;  you  may  scoff,  but  it  is.  I 
am  doing  the  right  thing — I  want  to  say  it  again — 
I  want  you  to  feel  it.  The  right  thing  by  her  and 
my  father.  And  I'm  doing  something  for  the 
world,  this  dear  Old  World  that  we  used  to  look 
forward  so  much  to  seeing.  I'm  setting  something 
right  in  it.  Some  of  us  do  right  in  one  way,  George 
Wendern,  and  some  in  another." 

He  laughed  out  in  an  agony.  "The  world  is 
204 


Gave  a  Party 

full  of  strange  apostles  to-day.  An  hour  ago  a  man 
was  with  me  who  talked  of  robbing  people  for  their 
good,  as  a  cure  for  folly  or  worldliness,  a  man  I  had 
known  for  years  and  had  stood  beside  at  the  keen- 
est moment  of  his  life.  And  now  you — oh,  my 
God !  you,  Katherine,  have  turned  yourself  into  a 
New  World  missionary  who,  against  the  dictates  of 
her  own  heart,  is  going  out  to  help  the  pauper 
lord;  a  sweet  girl  saint,  who  will  have  a  coronet 
for  her  head  instead  of  a  halo,  a  family  estate  and 
liveried  servants  to  wait  upon  her  instead  of  the 
man  she  loves  beside  her  and  his  children  about 
her  knees — a  girl  saint  who  sacrifices  herself  for 
what  her  money  may  do,  and  refuses  to  think  of 
what  her  womanhood  means." 

"Oh,  don't,  don't,"  she  cried,  and  put  her  arms 
across  her  eyes. 

"This  hour  has  swept  away  the  best  dream  of 
my  life.  But  go  and  be  my  Lady  Derbyshire, 
and  have  your  castle  and  your  attendants,  your 
family  diamonds  that  Kimberley  never  knew " 

"Oh,  how  cruel  you  are — or  you  are  trying  to 
insult  me?" 

He  softened  then.  "Yes,  I  am  a  brute,  per- 
haps," he  said.  "But  think  what  life  might  be 
if  we  were  together!" 

"I  know,"  she  said  passionately,  "I  know  well 
enough,  George.  But  I  wouldn't  be  satisfied  with 

205 


George  Wendern 

myself;  that's  what  you  don't  see. — Hark,  I  think 
mother  is  coming. " 

He  made  a  sound  of  derision.  "Your  mother- 
yes,  dear,  your  mother. " 

The  door  opened  and  Mrs.  Fiffer  entered.  She 
hesitated  and  looked  at  him  curiously,  then  turned 
to  her  daughter  and  asked,  "Have  you  told  Mr. 
Wendern  the  news?" 

"Yes,  I  have  told  him,"  Katherine  answered. 
She  was  a  little  breathless;  her  arm  rested  on  the 
high  back  of  a  chair  as  if  for  support. 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  it,  Mr.  Wendern?" 
Mrs.  Fiffer  looked  at  him  again. 

"He's  a  good  chap  and  deserves  his  luck — 
though  it's  colossal. " 

"I'm  glad  you  like  him.  What  I  think  is  that 
he  hasn't  got  any  of  the  tricks  of  some  of  the  young 
men  over  here;  and  then  he  is  poor.  Katherine 
would  have  felt  she  wasn't  turning  her  money  to 
proper  account  if  she  married  a  rich  man. " 

"It's  a  fine  idea." 

"She  was  always  full  of  ideas,"  Mrs.  Fiffer  an- 
swered and  beamed  with  satisfaction.  "Now, 
Mr.  Wendern,  I  want  you  to  tell  Mrs.  Berwick,  if 
you  don't  mind,  that  I  didn't  know  it  when  I  saw 
her  this  afternoon,  or  she  might  think  I  was  un- 
friendly not  to  say  anything. " 

"I'll  tell  her."  As  if  there  was  no  more  to  say 
206 


Gave  a  Party 

he  held  out  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Fiffer,  looked  round 
at  Katherine  with  a  smile,  and  went. 

"What  did  you  say  to  him — did  he  mind?"  Mrs. 
Fiffer  asked. 

Katherine  was  standing  now  with  her  arms 
thrown  up,  her  hands  clasped  behind  her  head; 
she  looked  like  a  wild  creature  who  had  run  a 
race  and  was  paying  for  it — with  life,  and  yet 
knew  that  the  victory  had  had  to  be  gained  at 
any  cost.  She  stared  at  her  mother  as  if  taken 
by  surprise.  "Say,"  she  panted,  "what  did  I  say? 
I  don't  know — but,  mother — mother,"  she  seemed 
to  be  stricken  with  despair,  "all  things  have  to 
be  paid  for,  and  nothing  so  dearly  as  money." 

"As  money?" 

"Yes."  She  shut  her  eyes  and  shivered  for 
a  moment  as  if  with  pain,  "It's  paid  for  with  life 
and  hope  and  love.  But  you  don't  understand, 
mother  dear,  you  forget.  Go  upstairs,"  she 
added  gently,  "I've  done  what  you  wish.  I've 
done  my  duty  to  father's  money.  Go  upstairs 
and  be  satisfied." 

"Well,  but " 

"Go,  mother  dear,"  she  entreated,  "I  must  be 
alone,  I  must  indeed."  She  kissed  the  shrewd, 
kindly  face  before  she  closed  the  door.  Mrs. 
Fiffer  heard  it  softly  locked. 

Then  Katherine  threw  herself  down,  and  rose 
207 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

again  and  walked  to  and  fro,  and  had  it  out  with 
herself.  "It's  done,  it's  done,  but  oh!  the  misery 
of  it,"  she  moaned;  "and  George  Wendern — 
George  Wendern,  I  love  you,  I  love  you  and  want 
to  be  yours — a  beggar,  a  thief,  anything  in  the 
world,  if  only  I  be  yours.  This  is  where  your 
arms  went — where  your  hands  were  clasped  when 
they  held  me,"  she  rested  her  face  down  on  her 
sleeve,  "Oh,  George  Wendern,  I'm  a  fool,  a 
fool,  and  yet  what  I'm  doing  is  right.  You  will 
never  dream  what  it  costs  me,  you  will  never  be- 
lieve; but  it  must  be  right,  it  must  be  fine,  it 
is,  it  is  as  it's  fine  sometimes  for  people  to  let 
themselves  be  put  on  the  rack.  I'm  on  the  rack 
now,  but  I  won't  flinch.  I'll  go  through  with  it — 
but  I  love  you,  love  you,  George  Wendern. " 

There  was  a  loud  knock  at  the  street  door;  she 
heard  it,  though  the  library  was  far  down  the  hall. 
Lord  Derbyshire  had  come. 


208 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IT  was  significant  that  Wendern  left  the  Fiffer's 
house  by  the  front  door.  The  days  of  com- 
munication between  the  garden  ways  were  over. 

He  let  himself  in  by  a  latch-key  and  went  to  the 
morning-room. 

Mrs.  Berwick  was  sitting  by  the  writing-table, 
her  attitude  vaguely  struck  him  as  woe-begone. 
She  looked  up  as  he  entered,  half-startled, — "Oh, 
Mr.  Wendern,  I  thought  you  had  gone  to  Mrs. 
Fiffer's." 

He  recovered  his  usual  manner  in  a  moment, 
save  that  a  little  more  excitement  than  usual 
showed  itself;  his  voice  was  almost  gay  as  he  an- 
swered,— "I  have  just  come  from  there." 

"Mrs.  Fiffer  was  so  anxious  to  see  you,"  she 
said,  wondering  what  had  happened. 

He  went  towards  the  tea  things,  which  were  still 
in  the  room,  hesitated,  then  poured  some  whisky 
into  a  glass,  from  the  decanter  that  had  been 
brought  in  for  Lant,  and  swallowed  it  with  a  gulp. 
"Of  course  she  was  anxious.  She  wanted  me  to 

209 


George  Wendern 

hear  her  news — splendid  news.  Mrs.  Fiffer  said 
I  was  to  tell  you. " 

"News?"  she  gasped,  "splendid  news?" 

"Yes,"  he  laughed  out.  Mrs.  Berwick  had 
never  heard  him  do  that  before,  "She's  engaged 
to  Derbyshire — excellent,  isn't  it?" 

"To  Lord  Derbyshire?"  she  was  genuinely 
astonished.  "Oh — oh,  dear  Mr.  Wendern,  I 
hoped — I  hoped— 

"Never  hope,  wait  for  things  that  come  your 
way  and  make  the  best  of  them. " 

"They  never  come  to  some  people,"  she  hesi- 
tated and  wondered  how  to  tell  him  of  the  other 
catastrophe  that  had  fallen  on  the  house;  she 
had  only  just  heard  of  it.  « 

"Quite  true,  but  they've  come  to  Derbyshire, 
he's  a  good  fellow — you  must  congratulate  them. 
I  shall  have  to  get  her  a  wedding-present.  What 
shall  it  be — a  tiara?  perhaps  she'll  collect  them." 
He  tried  to  laugh  again. 

She  got  up  and  stood  looking  at  him,  wondering, 
as  Katherine  had  done,  whether  he  were  sane, 
"Oh,  it's  too  dreadful — it's  too  dreadful,  every- 
thing comes  at  once,"  she  said,  and  burst  into 
tears. 

He  was  surprised  and  amused,  it  pulled  him 
together.  "My  dear  Mrs.  Berwick,  this  won't 
do — look  here,  have  some  whisky — no,  tea  is  what 

210 


Gave  a  Party 

women  always  want.  Let  me  light  the  lamp." 
He  went  towards  it  and  struck  a  match.  "There 
— you'll  be  better  soon.  A  cup  of  tea — eh?" 
He  was  almost  incoherent  in  his  effort  not  to 
show  his  own  distraction.  "There,  it  will  be 
ready  directly,"  he  repeated.  "Now  tell  me  what 
is  agitating  you. " 

"Everything  is  falling  about  our  ears,  every- 
thing at  once." 

"I  don't  understand?" 

"There's  a  man  downstairs — he  came  this  after- 
noon, just  before  Mr.  Lant  came — and  says  he 
must  be  paid  before  he  leaves  the  house.  The  ser- 
vants are  so  frightened,  they  have  just  been  to  me; 
they  are  very  attached  to  you,  but  they  want 
their  wages.  A  man  came  four  times  yesterday; 
the  cook  says  the  tradespeople  won't  even  send  in 
food  any  longer." 

"But  these  are  trifles  to  worry  about;  I'll  pay 
them — like  the  head  of  a  middle-class  family." 
He  went  over  to  the  writing-table  and  took  up  a 
letter  he  had  thrown  there  an  hour  before. 

"Oh,  they  are  not  trifles  indeed,"  Mrs.  Ber- 
wick gasped.  "You  don't  know  how  difficult 
it  has  been " 

He  rang  the  bell  and  hesitated,  he  was  evidently 
rapidly  formulating  something  in  his  mind.  "  Yes, 
that  will  be  the  way,"  he  said  to  himself,  "I  must 

211 


George  Wendern 

leave  it  till  then — but  it  is  a  brilliant  idea,  it  will 
be  a  surprise,  a  thing  that  has  never  been  done 
before.  Not  dinner — I  couldn't  stand  them  for 
a  whole  evening — supper,  I'll  give  a  supper- 
party." 

"A  supper-party?"  Mrs.  Berwick  exclaimed 
wondering  if  he  were  going  mad.  "  But  you  don't 
seem  to  understand,  Mr.  Wendern,  there's  a  man 
downstairs — a  man  in  possession — he  won't  go. " 

"Let  him  stay.  No  doubt  they'll  make  him 
comfortable,"  his  tone  was  absent.  She  made  a 
gesture  of  despair. 

"Rogers,"  he  said  when  the  bell  was  answered, 
"I  shall  probably  be  leaving  London  to-morrow 
for  a  few  days;  I'm  not  sure  yet;  but  I  shall  be 
back  on  Wednesday.  And  on  Wednesday  night  I 
am  going  to  give  a  party. " 

"Yes,  sir."  Rogers  was  too  well  trained  to 
show  any  surprise.  "What  sort  of  a  party,  sir?" 

"A  supper-party,  late — as  supper  should  be.  I 
tell  you  at  once,  so  that  you  can  think  it  out.  It 
must  be  the  best  you  can  do;  Mrs.  Berwick,  I 
daresay,  will  have  the  kindness  to  take  an  interest 
in  it,"  he  looked  towards  her. 

"Oh  yes,  of  course,"  she  said  quickly,  more  be- 
wildered than  ever.  She  remembered  a  grey 
satin  dress  that  became  her  well,  and  regretted  that 
it  would  not  be  seen  by  the  guests. 

212 


Gave  a  Party 

"For  how  many,  sir?" 

"I'll  tell  you  to-morrow,  or  in  good  time  at  any 
rate,  and — "  he  felt  in  his  pocket  and  took  out 
the  letter,  "I  want  you  to  cash  this  cheque — wait, 
I  must  endorse  it — it  is  for  £500.  Bring  back  £100 
to  Mrs.  Berwick,  pay  the  servants — I  understand 
that  I  owe  them  some  wages — and  any  small  bills 
it  will  cover,  with  the  rest. " 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  Rogers  answered  imperturb- 
ably.  "I'm  sorry  to  mention  it,  but  there's  a  man 
downstairs — a  man  in  possession,  sir 

"By  all  means.  I  hope  he  is  agreeable."  He 
turned  away,  Rogers  left  the  room. 

Mrs.  Berwick  could  hardly  bear  it.  "Oh,  Mr. 
Wendern,  what  a  relief,  you  don't  know  what  it 
has  been — "  she  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes 
to  force  back  the  tears  that  stung  them.  "What 
am  I  to  do  with  the  £100  that  Rogers  brings 
back?" 

"My  dear  lady,  I  thought  perhaps  you  might 
find  it  useful  to  cover  some  little  forgotten  ac- 
count of  your  own. " 

"Oh — "  she  could  have  cried  again  for  sheer 
relief,  even  for  joy. 

"I  want  to  explain,"  Wendern  went  on,  "that 
besides  the  trifling  matters  that  have  distressed 
you,  there  are  a  number  of  gentlemen  who  have — 
or  imagine  they  have — claims  against  me.  I  have 

213 


George  Wendern 

had  a  sudden  idea,  quite  a  brilliant  one,  I  mean  to 
invite  them  all  to  supper — and  to  pay  them.  Most 
of  them  are  shareholders  in  a  Syndicate,  and  not 
quite  satisfied  with  their  position — one  or  two 
of  them  have  been  so  accommodating  as  to  lend  me 
money,  in  short,  we  shall  have  a  motley  crew; 
that  is  if  I  can  persuade  them  to  come.  Before 
they  leave  their  claims  will  be  settled.  I  hope  it 
will  amuse  you  to  see  that  their  entertainment  is 
worthy  of  them. " 

"I  shall  like  it  immensely.  I  shall  try  and  get 
a  peep  at  them  through  the  crack  of  the  door,  or 
through  the  orange-trees;  I  could  if  I  went  out 
through  the  morning-room,"  she  tried  to  be  arch 
again,  but  she  was  too  much  surprised  to  do  it  well. 
He  had  produced  £500  without  turning  a  hair,  just 
when  she  had  imagined  that  no  money  would 
be  forthcoming,  and  now  it  seemed  as  if  these 
other  creditors  would  be  dealt  with  as  well — 
"in  a  manner  worthy  of  the  mad  hatter,"  she 
thought. 

There  was  a  pause,  he  took  another  gulp  of 
whisky.  "It  would  be  delightful  to  ask  you  to 
join  us,  but  a  bachelor  party,  you  know " 

"Oh,  of  course  it  would  be  impossible — "  then, 
as  if  on  an  impulse,  "you  will  think  it  a  strange 
idea;  but  there  is  Mr.  Bulson " 

"Who  is  Mr.  Bulson?" 
214 


Gave  a  Party 

'  The  wine  merchant — a  most  gentlemanlike 
man,  I  assure  you,  and— 

"There  is  nothing  to  prevent  a  wine  merchant 
from  being  a  gentleman — he  often  is  one." 

"He  has  a  large  account — but  he  is  so  anxious 
not  to  worry  you;  he  is  really  very — refined." 

He  was  quite  interested,  he  looked  at  her  and 
wondered  if  Parker  had  a  rival.  "I'm  sure  of  it. 
Would  you  like  me  to  ask  him  to  supper?"  He 
said  it  as  a  joke,  and  was  surprised  when  she 
answered : 

"Do  you  know,  I  was  wondering  whether  it 
mightn't  be  a  good  thing,"  she  was  thinking  of 
Cyril's  days  and  the  old  tactics;  "you  see,  his 
account  is  a  very  large  one. " 

"It  shall  be  paid  with  the  rest;  and  Mr.  Bulson 
shall  be  invited  to  supper.  Perhaps  you  would  like 
to  write  the  invitation  yourself?"  He  started 
nervously  as  the  clock  struck.  "It's  getting  late," 
he  said. 

"You  are  going  away  to-morrow — away  again?" 
She  went  closer  to  him;  she  put  out  her  hand  and 
quickly  drew  it  back;  against  her  will  she  re- 
membered that  the  other  woman  had  refused  him. 

He  nodded  for  answer,  and  looked  into  her  eyes; 
there  was  an  expression  in  them  that  took  him  by 
surprise,  for  a  moment  it  embarrassed  him,  but 
he  recovered  quickly.  "Yes,  to-morrow — and  now 

215 


George  Wendern 

I  must  go  out.  I  shall  probably  be  late,"  he 
added  with  decision. 

"Oh,  don't  go — "  she  entreated,  "you  are  bet- 
ter in  your  own  place,  and  you  are  worried,  I 
know  it — dine  at  home  this  evening?" 

"At  home,"  he  said  bitterly,  "I  have  no  home; 
this  is  only  a  make-shift,  a  shelter — the  highway." 

"The  highway,  what  way?"  she  asked  puz- 
zled. 

"I  don't  know  yet,"  he  answered  with  a  cyn- 
ical sound  that  conveyed  nothing. 

"But  don't  go  out  now,  dine  at  home,"  she  re- 
peated, her  voice  trembled.  She  looked  up  at  him. 

"At  home!  But  I  have  no  home.  And  you've 
had  enough  of  me  for  to-day,  dear  lady,  I'll  not 
intrude  on  you." 

"Oh,  don't  say  that — "  she  broke  down  and 
sobbed.  "I  can't  bear  it.  Don't  go — I — I — " 
she  held  out  both  hands  now  and  groped  for  his. 

He  stared  at  her  aghast,  took  the  hands,  kissed 
them,  and  dropped  them  abruptly.  "You,  dear 
lady,  are  very  charming " 

"If  you  really  thought  so — "  she  whispered. 

He  added  quickly,  "too  charming  to  allow  me 
to  regard  you  with  anything  but  admiration  and 
respect.  My  friend  Parker  thinks  you  the  most 
delightful  of  your  sex. " 

Then  she  realised  her  folly.  She  had  given  her- 
216 


Gave  a  Party 

self  away,  though  she  had  known  from  the  begin- 
ning it  was  no  good,  and  told  herself  so  a  score 
of  times.  She  retreated  as  best  she  could,  her 
cheeks  burned,  her  eyes  dropped,  she  covered  her 
confusion  with,  "He's  the  kindest  man  in  the 
world." 

"You  must  treat  him  well."  Wendern  looked 
at  her  again ;  this  was  a  queer  situation  for  which 
he  had  not  bargained.  Luckily  Rogers  entered 
again — with  the  cable  that  came  every  evening 
while  the  lawsuit  was  going  on.  He  tore  it 
open, — New  developments — impossible  finish  this 
week — certain  early  next.  It  would  probably  be 
over  in  time  for  Wednesday  night,  but  in  any 
case  Lant's  £10,000  would  make  it  all  right  for 
the  shareholders,  he  thought. 

"Rogers,"  he  said,  "I  want  you  to  remember 
that  the  supper  on  Wednesday  must  be  done  well — 
done  large,  as  they  used  to  say  in  my  country; 
everything,  anything  you  can  think  of,  no  shirk- 
ing, no  skimping,  nothing  commonplace,  flowers — 
quantities  of  them,  the  best  wines,  lots  of  cham- 
pagne, lights,  music — send  for  the  Corsican  Band 
— send  for  everything,  do  you  hear?" 

"Yes,  sir."  Rogers  left  the  room  with  the  tea- 
tray. 

Wendern  read  the  cable  again.  Mrs.  Berwick 
waited  with  longing,  curious  eyes,  but  he  said 

217 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

nothing,  gave  her  no  clue.  She  was  outside  his 
life — and  she  felt  it. 

Presently  he  looked  up  at  her  vacantly  and  said 
with  a  smile,  "It  shall  be  a  party  they  will  never 
forget.  A  night  of  nights, — they  will  talk  of  it  all 
their  lives." 

"Oh,  dear  Mr.  Wendern,  are  you  mad?"  The 
words  slipped  from  her. 

"Mad!"  he  exclaimed,  "I'm  sane  at  last;  sane 
as  a  parson  on  Easter  Sunday. " 

"Oh,  how  could  I,"  she  cried  to  herself  when  she 
was  alone,  "and  how  can  I  ever  face  him  again. 
But  I  couldn't  help  it — it's  no  good,  he's  mad,  I 
know,  but  he's — a  darling, "  she  said  it  in  a  whisper, 
"or — he's  the  devil."  Then,  as  if  ashamed,  she 
added  quickly,  "The  devil  must  be  very  fascinat- 
ing, or  so  many  people  wouldn't  go  to  him. " 


218 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WENDERN  came  down  late  the  next  day, 
or  rather  appeared  late  in  the  morning- 
room,  for  he  had  taken  his  early  ride  as  usual.  He 
wanted  to  escape  Mrs.  Berwick;  she  was  a  worthy 
woman,  he  told  himself,  but  yesterday  he  had  had 
a  little  too  much  of  her;  still  he  did  not  take  her 
emotion  seriously,  and  forgot  that  for  a  moment  he 
had  done  so.  That  afternoon  he  meant  to  go  to 
Winchelsea,  telling  no  one  of  his  destination;  to 
bury  himself  there  for  a  week.  It  was  always  his 
plan  when  he  was  worried,  his  antidote  for  all  ills, 
to  get  away  from  the  noise  and  hurry  of  London 
to  quiet  and  space.  He  knew  most  of  the  possi- 
bilities within  reach — Richmond  and  Wimbledon, 
Wandsworth  Common  and  Roehampton,  Chorley 
Wood  and  New  Barnet,  the  vanishing  Bostock 
Woods  of  Welling  and  Mottingham,  to  mention 
a  few  that  could  be  reached  in  less  than  an  hour 
with  the  car  or  a  taxi.  The  places  farther  away 
he  knew  even  better.  To  Winchelsea  he  had  only 
been  once  for  a  few  hours;  it  had  left  a  longing  to 
go  there  again.  Those  old  Crusaders  in  the 

219 


George  Wendern 

church,  crumbling  away  in  their  tombs,  with  their 
effigies  above  them,  had  slept  in  peace  through 
many  centuries;  perhaps  he  might  find  a  little 
spell  of  rest  in  looking  at  them  and  remembering 
the  fascination  such  things  had  for  Katherine. 

Meanwhile  there  was  the  morning  hour  in 
Princes  Gate  to  get  through,  Mrs.  Berwick  was 
waiting  for  him;  she  was  so  full  of  excitement  that 
it  overpowered  the  recollection  of  her  indiscretion 
last  night.  "Oh,  Mr.  Wendern,"  she  said,  "did 
you  see  the  paper?  The  news?" 

"News — I  had  a  cable."  He  was  thinking  of 
the  Dock  case. 

"I  don't  mean  that " 

He  turned  his  head  towards  her,  but  could  not 
simulate  the  eagerness  she  seemed  to  exact;  his 
thoughts  were  reaching,  across  the  inevitable 
two  hours  at  the  office  and  the  interview  he  meant 
to  have  with  his  lawyers,  to  Winchelsea,  to  its 
dreamlike  ways  and  the  slumberous  atmos- 
phere, to  the  long  hours  that  would  be  his  in  the 
next  few  days,  undisturbed  by  anything  but  the 
daily  cable;  he  meant  to  go  to  the  Company's 
office  and  arrange  for  that  to  be  sent  to  him  direct. 
It  was  almost  a  satisfaction  to  remember  that  a 
trifling  accident  made  it  impossible  to  take  the  car. 
He  wanted  to  retreat  into  the  past,  to  plan  some 
vague  future,  not  to  be  reminded  of  the  accursed 

220 


Gave  a  Party 

products  of  modern  civilisation  and  all  the  strange 
doings  it  had  helped  to  generate. 

"Late  last  night!  But  it's  most  extraordinary," 
he  heard  Mrs.  Berwick  saying,  evidently  overcome 
with  the  importance  of  her  communication,  "and 
so  dreadful,  of  course.  Lord  Kenton  and  his  son 
are  dead.  They  have  been  killed  in  a  motor 
accident." 

Wendern  looked  at  her  now.  "Killed — might 
be  worse,"  he  said  gloomily.  "What  then,  does 
it  matter  so  much?" 

"But  don't  you  see?  Lord  Derbyshire  gets  the 
.title,  the  estates,  and  an  immense  income.  Miss 
Fiffer  will  be  a  marchioness. " 

He  was  startled  for  a  moment,  this  had  not 
struck  him,  he  seemed  trying  to  realise  what  it 
meant.  "She'll  do  it  excellently,"  he  answered. 
"And  she'll  like  it— she'll  like  it,"  he  added  to 
himself.  Then,  ashamed  of  his  bitterness,  he 
covered  it  by  saying  aloud,  "She's  a  fine  creature, 
and  Derbyshire's  in  luck — splendid  luck."  He 
turned  to  the  letter  he  pretended  to  be  writing,  but 
Mrs.  Berwick,  crossing  the  room,  gave  a  quick 
glance  and  saw  that  the  paper  was  blank. 

He  rose  suddenly.  "Good-bye,"  he  held  out 
his  hand;  he  was  going  away  for  nearly  a  week 
and  some  leave-taking  seemed  necessary.  "When 
you  see  Joe,  give  him  my  love,  and  tell  him  to  take 

221 


George  Wendern 

care  of  you — not  to  let  you  mope, "  he  added  with 
a  significant  smile.  "  If  he  asks  for  me,  tell  him 
that  I  haven't  gone  to  the  devil — yet.  Only  to 
pull  my  thoughts  together,  and  to  wait  for  the 
finish  of  the  Dock  case  —  and  I'll  write  to 
him." 

"But,  Mr.  Wendern,"  she  asked  in  consterna- 
tion, "there's  the  man  in  possession?" 

"Let  him  go  on  possessing.  Rogers  and  the  rest 
will  take  care  of  him.  Everything  has  to  be  held 
over  till  the  lawsuit  is  finished."  With  that  he 
was  going;  then  he  hesitated  and,  lest  she  should 
feel  any  sense  of  insecurity,  wrote  down  the  ad- 
dress of  his  solicitors.  "They  will  know  my  ad- 
dress, in  case  of  accidents,"  he  explained,  "but 
I  want  no  letters  forwarded." 

At  the  office  Dawson  too  was  in  a  state  of  ex- 
citement, not  only  at  the  Kenton  catastrophe,  for 
of  course  he  knew  Derbyshire  well,  but  because 
Lant  had  written  saying  that  he  intended  to  pay 
off  any  impecunious  shareholders  in  the  Syndicate 
who  had  been  brought  in  at  his,  Lant's,  invita- 
tion and  were  dissatisfied  with  their  holding.  He 
wanted  their  names  and  addresses;  cheques  would 
be  sent  as  soon  as  the  transfers  were  executed  and 
the  certificates  returned. 

"Seems  a  funny  thing  to  do,  sir,  and  very  sud- 
den. I  suppose  Mr.  Lant  has  got  something  up 

222 


Gave  a  Party 

his  sleeve,  perhaps  he  knows  that  the  Syndicate 
is  worth  more  than  any  of  us  think.  I  mean  to 
stick  to  my  lot,  if  you  don't  mind  ?" 

"I  do  mind,"  Wendern  said  sharply.  "You'll 
sell  them,  do  you  hear?" 

"Very  well,  sir,  if  you  wish  it,  of  course.  But 
it  seems  rather  a  pity;  Mr.  Lant  isn't  the  sort  to 
buy  them  up  for  nothing. " 

"He  doesn't." 

"Oh?"  No  further  information  appeared  to 
be  forthcoming,  so  Dawson  changed  the  subject. 
"I  see  there's  a  long  account  of  the  Dock  case  in 
the  paper  this  morning;  it's  taken  a  turn." 

"It's  taken  a  turn,"  Wendern  echoed,  and 
busied  himself  at  his  table  for  a  few  minutes; 
then  he  looked  up.  "I'm  going  to  the  country 
till  Wednesday.  The  case  is  certain  to  be  decided 
by  then;  and  I  shall  pay  off  the  people  in  the  Syn- 
dicate who  took  shares  in  any  way  through  me — 
though  luckily  these  are  not  a  poor  set  to  whom 
loss  would  mean  ruin;  I  shall  do  it  for  my  own 
satisfaction." 

Dawson  was  quite  startled.  "Pay  them  off?" 
he  echoed. 

"  I  want  you  to  get  transfers  ready  for  them,  as 
well  as  for  the  Lant  clients,  and  dispatch  them. 
There  are  not  many,  I  am  glad  to  say;  but  I  am 
going  to  invite  them  to  supper  with  me  on  Wednes- 
day night  at  my  house.  They  will  be  paid  off 

223 


George  Wendern 

before  they  leave,  provided  they  bring  transfers 
with  them  properly  executed  and  the  certificates 
of  their  shares. " 

"Yes,  sir.'*  Dawson  regretted  that  he  was  not 
one  of  them.  "Will  it  be  all  right,  sir,  if  you 
don't  win  the  Dock  case?"  he  ventured  to  ask. 

"I  shall  win  it;  but  if  not,  it  will  be  all  the  same; 
they  will  be  paid  off."  He  read  Lant's  letter 
again;  he  had  found  it  waiting  for  him  at  the 
office.  It  ran: — 

I  will  expect  you  between  five  and  six  at  the  Grosvenor  Hotel 
on  Wednesday.  The  loan  will  be  at  your  disposal,  so  get  any 
shareholders  who  worry  you,  or  are  troublesome,  off  your 
mind.  On  Thursday  the  meeting,  and  the  reconstruction 
proposal  for  the  benefit  of  those  still  in  the  Syndicate. 

You  ought  to  get  a  yacht,  dear  chappie,  and  a  fair  friend; 
nothing  like  that  combination  for  pleasantly  escaping  the 
cares  and  attentions  of  the  world. 

He  tore  up  the  letter  and  wondered  what  the 
woman  was  like.  He  saw  through  Lant  now,  and 
knew  him  for  a  scoundrel;  but,  as  sometimes  hap- 
pens even  with  the  greatest  scoundrels,  he  had  a 
vein  of  sentiment;  it  would  induce  him  to  keep 
his  word  about  the  £10,000.  The  reason  of  the 
offer  was  too  deeply  rooted  in  the  bygone  years  to 
make  it  possible  he  would  go  back  on  it:  to  Wen- 
dern the  best  in  human  nature  was  always  com- 
pelling in  the  end. 

Besides,  Lant  knew  that  the  meeting  and  the 
precious  reconstruction  would  go  more  smoothly 

224 


Gave  a  Party 

if  certain  members  of  the  Syndicate  were  cleared 
out  of  it,  and  only  the  careless  of  liability  left  in. 

The  thought  of  the  £10,000  was  an  immense 
relief  to  Wendern.  If  the  Dock  case  were  decided 
it  might  not  be  necessary  to  use  it;  but  if  it  still 
dragged  on,  the  loan  would  enable  him  to  pay  back 
the  money  to  those  whose  possible  loss,  whether 
they  were  or  were  not  in  a  position  to  afford  it, 
had  become  a  nightmare  to  him.  His  one  desire 
was  to  discharge  every  debt  he  had  incurred; 
and  after  that — the  deluge.  If  he  had  any  definite 
scheme  of  life  left  it  was  to  rid  himself  of  every- 
thing he  possessed,  and  to  get  away  with  just 
enough  to  take  him  to  the  other  end  of  the  world. 
He  remembered  with  a  rush  of  thankfulness  that  he 
had  not  sold  Sandway  Strip.  The  shanty  he  had 
talked  of  should  be  put  up.  He  thought  of  the 
stars  looking  down  on  it  at  night,  of  the  cool  of  the 
dawn,  of  the  blazing  heat  of  noon,  from  which 
the  roughly  constructed  roof  would  shelter  him,  of 
the  soft  swiftly  passing  twilight,  in  which  Nature 
whispered  its  thankfulness  for  the  splendour  of 
the  day  that  had  gone. 

"If  I  once  get  there  again,"  he  thought,  "all 
may  be  well;  and  if  I  come  back  to  this  place,  it 
shall  not  be  as  a  cumberer  of  the  earth,  of  no  use 
except  occasionally  to  minister  to  the  vanities  of  a 
set  of  people  who  have  never  realised  what  a  mag- 

225 


George  Wendern 

nificent  thing  it  is  to  be  rich  and  to  have  time  at 
their  disposal.  But  I  expect  few  manage  to  do 
that  till  they've  outlived  the  best  possibilities  of 
life  for  themselves." 

He  went  to  his  lawyers  before  leaving  London 
to  give  instructions  concerning  the  house  at  Princes 
Gate  and  its  contents.  The  man  in  possession  he 
regarded  almost  as  a  sorry  joke,  a  queer  comedy 
part,  not  to  be  hustled  through  too  quickly. 
There  would  be  plenty  to  pay  him  off,  to  do 
something  for  Mrs.  Berwick,  and  to  discharge  all 
the  minor  obligations.  After  all,  with  Lant's 
loan  in  view  there  was  no  need  to  worry.  Sud- 
denly he  remembered  Parker's  £500 — the  £10,000 
might  not  cover  that  too;  but  it  would  be  paid 
with  the  fortune  the  finish  of  the  lawsuit  would 
bring  him.  Fortune  ?  This  time  he  would  know 
how  to  handle  it,  or  rather,  he  would  think  out 
how  to  do  it  when  he  reached  his  shanty  thousands 
of  miles  away.  Thousands  of  miles  away;  the 
words  were  full  of  music. 

The  lawyers  received  him  as  a  person  of  im- 
portance, and  poured  congratulations  on  him, 
taking  the  success  of  the  Dock  case  for  granted; 
long  accounts  of  it  were  in  the  papers.  "The 
papers  usually  lie,"  he  told  them,  but  the  cer- 
tainty they  expressed  was  pleasant.  "Whichever 
way  it  goes,"  he  said,  "in  a  fortnight's  time  or 

226 


Gave  a  Party 

less  I  want  you  to  set  about  realising  everything 
I  possess.  I  can't  take  root  in  this  country.  I 
hear  my  own  calling.  Make  out  a  list  of  any 
assets  I  have.  There  are  a  good  many  in  the  house, 
for  I  have  wasted  money  pretty  freely,  and  there 
are  some  outside  it  that  ought  to  realise  enough 
to  wipe  out  the  minor  debts.  When  the  lawsuit 
is  at  an  end  there  will  be  plenty  for  other  pur- 
poses." 

"Of  course."  They  knew  that,  better  than  he 
did. 

"Strange  man,"  the  lawyer  said  when  he'd  gone, 
"always  gives  one  an  impression  of  being  on  his 
way  somewhere." 

Strange  they  should  say  it,  for  he  often  felt  that 
he  was  in  a  transition  stage  from  a  former  state 
to  a  future  one;  that  farther  along  the  world's 
highway  there  were  truths  and  mysteries  to  learn, 
to  penetrate,  not  eagerly  or  ruthlessly  but  calmly 
and  reverently;  and  along  it,  Katherine  seemed, 
unconsciously  to  herself,  to  tread  beside  him.  It 
made  him  wonder  whether  there  might  not  be  a 
companionship  of  soul,  of  which  the  material  self 
took  no  account,  freighted  with  compensation 
for  all  that  the  being,  moulded  by  outward  in- 
fluences, seemed  unable  to  resist?  Probably  she 
was  getting  ready  now  for  her  coming  glories. 
Dead  Sea  fruit — but  she  might  not  discover  it; 

227 


George  Wendern 

besides,  even  among  women,  some  play  for  happi- 
ness and  some  for  other  things:  "We  all  build 
our  own  little  heavens  or  hells,"  he  thought,  "and 
of  queer  material;  sometimes  not  knowing  which 
is  which  till  we  have  passed  the  gateway. " 

All  this  he  thought  out  in  the  train,  on  the  plat- 
form at  Ashford,  where  he  had  to  change  carriages, 
and  in  the  fly  on  the  long  drive  to  the  sleepy-look- 
ing hotel  and  the  rooms  for  which  he  had  tele- 
graphed. He  wondered  why  he  did  not  feel  more 
acutely  the  shock  he  had  had,  for  he  hardly  real- 
ised that  it  was  one.  His  love  for  Katherine  had 
been  the  strongest  feeling  of  his  life,  she  dominated 
it  now,  she  would  to  its  end;  and  yet,  though  she 
would  never  be  his,  though  his  lips  would  never 
touch  hers  again,  nor  her  head  rest  on  his  shoulder 
as  it  had  done  in  that  divine  minute  at  Brighton, 
though  she  was  going  to  give  herself  deliberately 
to  another  man — not  merely  her  money  but  her- 
self, he  was  taking  it  as  calmly  as  though  it  were 
all  in  the  day's  work.  It  seemed  to  hypnotise 
him;  he  could  feel  certain  minor  things  but  this 
had  left  him  with  only  a  dazed  sense  of  surprise, 
a  desire  to  escape  everything  and  go  to  the 
other  side  of  the  world.  "The  other  side  of 
the  world,"  he  said  to  himself  again,  half  a 
dozen  times;  to  stay  here,  on  this  side,  any 
longer  was  a  condition  he  could  not  face.  Sud- 

228 


Gave  a  Party 

denly  he  realised  why  he  took  it  all  so  calmly; 
she  was  giving  herself  to  Derbyshire — herself,  her 
voice,  her  hands,  her  damnable  money;  but  all  the 
time  she  loved  him — him,  George  Wendern.  She 
was  desperately  giving  the  other  man  her  body 
but  not  her  soul.  That  was  his — his.  _  Some 
higher,  better,  tenderer  self  that  lived  in  her,  and 
that  the  lower  self  bolted  and  barred  away  from 
him,  looked  through  its  prison  windows  and  would 
escape  to  him,  do  what  she  would.  She  might 
live  in  Derbyshire's  castle,  and  trail  into  palaces 
to  make  her  curtseys  to  kings  and  queens  as  much 
as  she  pleased,  all  the  time  her  soul  would  be  his — 
George  Wendern's.  It  would  follow  him  and  he 
would  feel  it  with  him  when  he  was  in  the  little 
shanty  that  should  never  know  anything  but 
human  love  and  hope  and  endeavour.  "My 
God,"  he  said  to  himself,  "I  can  understand  now 
why  Christ  was  born  in  a  manger. " 

And  so  he  loved  her,  for  why  should  he  deny 
himself? — loved  her  again,  though  as  it  were  from 
the  clouds. 

He  felt,  too,  that  he  had  done  well  in  coming  to 
Winchelsea.  That  its  stillness  and  peace  would 
clear  the  cobwebs  from  his  brain.  As  if  to  help 
towards  it  the  cable  that  was  sent  on  an  hour  after 
his  arrival  was  a  good  one.  Ah!  Soon  he  would 
be  a  free  man,  free  of  all  the  obligations  that 

229 


George  Wendern 

fettered  him  now.  He  imagined  the  blue  sea  over 
which  he  would  scud  on  board  a  ship  with  white 
sails.  He  remembered,  with  a  cynical  smile,  that 
the  day  of  white  sails  was  at  an  end,  the  thud-thud 
of  the  engines  had  taken  their  place,  no  matter; 
if  realities  had  lost  some  of  their  beauty,  dreams 
need  not  truckle  to  them. 

Then  some  demon  suggested,  "  But  if  everything 
goes  wrong,  if,  after  all,  the  Dock  case  fails — if 
Lant  plays  false  and  doesn't  advance  the  £10,000 
— if  you  have  to  meet  those  men  at  supper  know- 
ing that  no  cheques  will  be  given  them,  to  tell 
them  that  the  transfers  must  be  torn  up,  the  cer- 
tificates carried  home  again,  that  there  is  no  money 
for  them — the  whole  thing  is  a  swindle?" 

He  faced  the  possibility  calmly,  his  pulse  hardly 
moved.  But  he  remembered  a  speech  at  the 
deputation  and  thought  of  the  second  it  takes  to 
pull  a  trigger.  "After  all,  there  is  one  great  solu- 
tion for  all  ills,"  he  told  himself,  "death  and  the 
gravedigger  between  them  give  it  to  even  the  poor- 
est devil  at  last. " 

In  the  twilight  he  went  down  to  the  sea.  He 
had  begun  already  to  think  out  some  plan  of  life 
worth  a  man's  living.  He  knew  that  his  desire  to 
live  any  life  at  all  was  a  make-believe,  and  yet  he 
persevered.  The  happiest  people  in  creation, 
it  seemed  to  him,  were  the  working  poor,  the  most 

230 


Gave  a  Party 

responsible — the  working  rich.  But  his  strongest 
feeling  concerning  himself  was,  as  he  had  said  on 
an  impulse  to  Joe  and  it  had  been  growing  on  him 
since,  that  he  ought  to  be  shot.  "  But  no,  George 
Wendern,"  he  said,  "that  shall  not  be  the  end, 
and  your  food  for  thought  is  set  out  ready  for 
you  when  you  are  in  your  shanty  on  Sandway 
Strip;  may  it  be  a  sacrament  to  you." 

He  choked  as  he  said  it,  the  curious  inability 
to  feel,  the  sense  of  being  hypnotised,  was  drift- 
ing away,  leaving  one  of  desolation  and  misery. 
After  all  he  was  a  mortal  man;  and  there  was  only 
cold  comfort  in  the  possession  of  Katherine's 
soul;  he  wanted  her,  her  human  love — herself, 
as  a  man  wants  the  woman  he  adores.  He  clenched 
his  teeth  to  bear  silently  and  calmly  what  had  hap- 
pened to  him.  Blue  skies  and  a  ship,  a  shanty  on 
the  other  side  of  the  world,  what  did  he  care  for 
any  of  them  ?  He  wanted  the  woman  of  his  heart, 
the  one  woman  of  his  life.  He  was  baffled  and 
cornered,  taken,  as  he  expressed  it,  by  a  sidewalk 
into  hell,  and  for  one  moment  in  the  darkness  on 
the  deserted  beach  he  threw  up  his  hands  as  Kath- 
erine  had  done  in  the  library  at  Princes  Gate  when 
the  door  closed  on  her  mother.  "  I  can't  stand  it, " 
he  said,  "nor  do  I  see  in  any  of  the  fine  sentiments 
with  which  we  hedge  ourselves  round  a  reason 
why  I  should,  when  I  have  discharged  the  obliga- 

231 


George  Wendern 

tions  which  by  sheer  carelessness  and  foolery  I 
have  incurred.  The  shareholders  will  be  safe  soon, 
there'll  be  fragments  to  gather  up,  the  end  of  the 
lawsuit  will  put  a  fortune  into  my  hands.  I  must 
find  a  little  wisdom  to  deal  with  it — and  that  is 
all." 

Gradually  the  darkness  gathered  round  him, 
the  sound  of  the  sea  was  in  his  ears,  the  wind  swept 
past;  he  felt  as  if  he  were  a  madman  keeping  his 
madness  well  in  hand  so  that  no  one  would  suspect. 
"My  dear,"  he  said  to  her  in  his  thoughts,  "I 
shall  go  on  and  love  you  as  long  as  I  live.  But  it 
must  be  as  far  off  from  you  as  possible,  and  may  all 
that  you  get  in  exchange  give  you  some  sort  of 
satisfaction.  I  have  been  a  brute  to  you  at  odd 
moments  during  these  last  hours,  but  luckily  you 
won't  know  or  even  guess  it. " 

He  turned  his  face  towards  the  long  road  that 
led  to  the  hotel  and  doggedly  made  himself  think 
of  practical  things  again.  He  wondered  if  El- 
worthy,  the  solicitor,  when  he  made  out  the  lists 
of  assets  would  find  that  there  was  enough  to  do 
something  for  Mrs.  Berwick.  "However,  I  hope 
Joe  will  marry  that  lady,"  he  thought.  "If  he 
does,  he'll  do  me  another  good  turn  and  he  won't 
do  himself  a  bad  one,  for  there's  a  curious  con- 
scientiousness about  the  little  woman  that  will 
prevent  her  from  bringing  disaster  on  any  one 

232 


Gave  a  Party 

with  whom  she  has  concern.     I  hope  he  is  taking 
her  to  the  Carlton  this  evening. " 

As  a  matter  of  fact  they  were  at  the  Savoy,  at 
one  of  the  little  tables  by  a  window,  and  between 
the  excellent  courses  that  both  of  them  enjoyed, 
as  only  those  do  who  remember  poor  and  scanty 
food,  they  looked  out  at  the  Embankment.  The 
trees  wore  a  vivid  green  in  the  softening  light  that 
comes  before  the  greyness — and  the  tramcars 
moved  along  swiftly,  silently  almost,  with  their 
lamps  already  shining,  making  them  seem  like 
living  monsters  apologetic  for  desecrating  the 
beautiful  highway  by  the  river.  Joe  was  absent- 
minded,  meditating  on  the  news  about  Wendern 
of  which  Mrs.  Berwick  told  him — that  is,  the 
part  of  it  that  related  to  Katherine  Fiffer.  For 
the  rest,  Wendern  had  sent  him  a  hurried  line 
telling  him  that  he  had  an  appointment  at 
the  Grosvenor  Hotel  with  Christopher  Lant  late 
on  Wednesday  afternoon,  that  he  should  be  back 
for  it,  and  for  the  meeting  next  day;  but  he  had 
not  given  any  clue  to  his  present  whereabouts. 
The  letter  had  been  written  at  the  office.  He 
had  felt  that  he  wanted  to  get  away  even  from  the 
friend  he  liked  best,  and  Joe,  always  queerly 
sympathetic,  understood  it. 

"Well,  a  woman  who  can  throw  over  a  chap  like 

233 


George  Wendern 

Wendern  for  one  like  Derbyshire  isn't  worth  a 
dead  jackass, "  was  his  comment.  "  As  for  George, 
why,  the  Dock  case  will  be  finished  soon,  and  there 
will  be  plenty  of  birds  in  the  air  for  him;  he'll 
bring  'em  down  too,  you  may  be  certain  of  that. " 

"You  think  it  will  be  finished  by  Wednesday?" 

"I  expect  so,"  he  answered.  There  was  a  long 
pause,  for  many  things  were  in  Parker's  mind 
before  he  said,  "I'm  afraid  you  won't  see  much 
of  me  between  this  and  then.  I've  a  good  deal  to 
do,  and  I've  a  sister  at  Yarmouth  and  it's  about 
time  I  thought  of  going  to  see  her. " 

"Oh,"  she  made  her  tone  regretful,  though  in 
reality  she  felt  that  his  absence  would  be  a  relief. 
"I  shall  miss  you." 

"Well,  if  you  take  it  that  way  I  shall  be  satis- 
fied. I  shall  be  in  on  Wednesday,  you  may  be  cer- 
tain of  that,  and  I'll  bring  one  or  two  little  things 
to  show  you.  I've  been  considering  in  my  own 
mind  what  I'd  do  with  them,  and — "  he  took  a 
gulp  of  champagne,  "I've  been  considering  about 
you  too,  Mrs.  Berwick.  I'd  like  you  to  know  it,  so 
that  you  can  make  up  your  mind  what  you'll  do 
if  I  think  it's  wise  to  say  what's  in  mine. " 

She  dropped  her  eyes.  "Oh,  Mr.  Parker,  you 
are  so  droll." 

"Well,  I  never  heard  it  called  droll  before; 
but  I'm  glad  it  strikes  you  that  way.  Anyhow, 

234 


Gave  a  Party 

I'll  be  in  between  six  and  seven  on  Wednesday  and 
hear  how  things  are  going.  I  think  I  shall  have 
something  of  my  own  to  tell  George  too;  you  might 
say  so  if  he  comes  first.  Meanwhile,  I'll  call  on 
Mrs.  Fiffer  before  I  go  to  Yarmouth  and  let  her 
know  what  I  think  of  that  young  woman. " 

"Mr.  Wendern  hasn't  invited  you  to  come  in  on 
Wednesday?"  Mrs.  Berwick  asked  discreetly. 

"No,  I  don't  know  that  he  has,  but  that  doesn't 
matter  between  old  friends  like  us.  I  come  when 
I  like — and  mean  to  go  on  with  it. " 

"Of  course,"  Mrs.  Berwick  answered  softly; 
but  she  did  not  mention  the  party,  for  Wendern 
had  said  nothing  about  inviting  him.  It  must 
be  repeated  that  she  was  a  tactful  woman. 


235 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  tension  of  the  days  that  followed  was  al- 
most more  than  Mrs.  Berwick  could  bear. 
There  was  no  sign  from  Wendern;  Joe  Parker  sent 
her  a  picture  postcard  from  Yarmouth,  on  which 
he  had  written  "With  best  wishes,  from  J.  P.," 
but  she  heard  nothing  else  from  him. 

With  the  Fiffers  she  had  no  communication  at 
all;  there  were  particulars  of  the  Ken  ton  catas- 
trophe in  the  papers,  and  paragraphs  about  Lord 
Derbyshire's  accession  to  the  title  and  his  engage- 
ment to  a  great  American  heiress  who  would  in- 
crease considerably  his  already  immense  income; 
and  it  was  stated  that  the  marriage  would  take 
place  soon  and  quietly.  Katherine  used  his  newly 
acquired  car  once  or  twice;  and  her  mother  was  to 
be  seen  whirling  away  in  the  Fiffer  one.  But  visits 
between  the  two  houses  in  Princes  Gate  had  seem- 
ingly come  to  an  end. 

"They  have  forgotten;  these  people  always  for- 
get," Mrs.  Berwick  thought  a  little  bitterly  as  the 
days  went  by  and  no  sign  was  made  to  her. 
"They  take  you  up  on  a  freak  or  an  impulse  be- 
cause you  amuse  them,  or  can  be  of  use  to  them, 

236 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

or  because  you  come  across  their  path  and  they  are 
too  polite  not  to  be  civil  before  you  get  out  of  it— 
but  care!  nobody  who  is  rich  cares  for  women  who 
are  poor  and  of  no  position;  though  occasionally 
they  are  kind — as  a  matter  of  moral  duty.  Oh, 
how  I  hate  duty.  I  should  like  to  escape  into  a 
big  generous  world  where  every  one  could  be 
natural  and  no  one  was  snubbed  or  envied,  and 
one  never  had  to  be  underhand  in  little  things." 
The  last  sentence  betrayed  that  Mrs.  Berwick  had 
an  outlook  of  her  own,  though  it  might  have  been 
warped  or  misshapen  by  circumstances. 

The  man  in  possession  was  still  possessing  and 
well  content.  The  servants  were  appeased  by  the 
£40x3  suddenly  spent  in  the  household.  They  were 
really  devoted  to  Wendern;  he  held  them  as  if 
by  a  spell,  and  not  even  the  proofs  of  financial 
embarrassment  seriously  disturbed  their  belief 
in  his  making  things  right  for  them.  Mrs.  Ber- 
wick herself  had  been  immensely  comforted  by  the 
£100  allotted  to  her,  she  had  paid  the  water  rate 
for  Mrs.  Rigg  and  given  presents  to  the  entire 
family,  besides  wiping  out  some  bills  of  her  own. 

Monday  came,  Tuesday — Wednesday  morning. 

The  supper  was  to  be  that  night.  She  wondered 
at  what  time  Wendern  would  return.  The  cables 
had  ceased  since  he  went  away — she  supposed  that 
they  had  been  sent  on  to  him;  but  it  made  no  dif- 

237 


George  Wendern 

ference,  for  of  their  contents  she  had  known  little 
or  nothing  when  he  was  at  home.  Every  morn- 
ing there  was  the  excitement  of  reading  the  ac- 
count of  the  Dock  case  in  the  paper;  it  had 
spread  out  a  good  deal,  and  she  gathered  that  fresh 
complications  had  arisen.  Still  the  crisis  had  been 
reached  at  last,  the  speeches  made,  and  the  verdict 
might  be  expected  at  any  moment.  It  was  not  in 
the  Wednesday  morning  paper,  but  it  was  bound 
to  come  that  day;  she  reckoned  up  the  difference 
of  time,  and  felt  that  any  moment  might  bring  it. 
She  was  more  feverishly  anxious  than  Wendern 
himself,  for  his  affairs  had  become  a  terrible  anx- 
iety to  her;  and  her  own  future  as  well  as  his 
seemed  to  be  hanging  on  the  result  of  the  trial. 
Thank  Heaven,  he  would  be  back  in  a  few  hours; 
she  was  half  hysterical  again  with  nervousness 
and  a  sickening  fear,  for  which  she  could  not  ac- 
count; above  all,  with  a  mad  longing  to  see  him. 
She  felt  lonely,  shackled,  bewildered,  all  by  turns, 
and  only  occasionally  and  in  sheer  desperation  did 
she  think  of  Joe  Parker. 

The  morning  dragged  by  while  she  sat  in  her 
usual  place  by  the  writing-table.  The  window 
leading  out  to  the  garden  had  been  closed.  She 
got  up  and  opened  it  to  let  in  the  summer  air. 
Then,  for  the  first  time  since  their  engagement, 
she  saw  Katherine  and  Derbyshire  together.  She 

238 


Gave  a  Party 

had  not  yet  learnt  to  call  him  by  his  new  title; 
besides,  the  funeral  that  gave  him  leave  to  use  it 
had  only  taken  place  two  days  ago.  They  came 
out  of  the  Fiffer  house  on  to  the  lawn,  and  were 
evidently  deep  in  conversation.  She  went  out 
and  walked  up  and  down,  slowly,  in  the  soft  shade 
on  her  side  of  the  enclosure,  carefully  crossing 
their  path,  thinking  they  were  certain  to  stop  and 
speak  to  her;  but  they  passed  close  by  her  twice, 
apparently  without  seeing  her;  then  suddenly 
Katherine  turned  her  head  and  asked,  "When 
does  Mr.  Wendern  come  back?" 

"This  evening."  Mrs.  Berwick  gathered  her 
wits  together  and  smiled,  but  the  two  people, 
interested  in  themselves,  went  on.  They  did  not 
want  her,  they  had  ignored  her,  she  told  herself, 
as  she  went  back  to  the  morning-room;  but  she 
was  used  to  not  being  wanted;  she  remembered 
that  it  had  been  difficult  to  find  any  one  who 
thought  her  even  worthy  of  her  hire.  Joe  Parker 
was  the  one  exception  to  the  rule.  He  was  com- 
ing between  six  and  seven  that  afternoon,  he  had 
said  so,  and  he  was  a  rock  to  lean  upon,  a  man  who 
kept  his  word.  For  the  first  time  she  thought  of 
him  not  only  gratefully,  but  almost  with  affection. 

"And  if  he  asks  me,  I'll  marry  him,"  she  told 
herself.  He  was  good-natured  and  kind-hearted, 
and  though  she  was  not  a  bit  in  love  with  him,  it 

239 


George  Wendern 

would  be  such  a  blessed  thing  to  escape  from 
poverty  for  good  and  all,  to  get  away  from  servi- 
tude, to  be  natural  and — and — if  she  was  to  know 
peace  of  mind — she  must  go  far  away  from  George 
Wendern,  she  realised  that  it  was  the  only  way. 
"How  women  suffer,"  she  cried  aloud  without 
knowing  it,  "gagged  and  bound  and  helpless — 
how  they  suffer,  and  men  never  dream  it,  or  care 
as  little  as  they  appear  to  know  it — oh,  what 
fools  we  are — what  fools. "  She  put  her  hands  to 
her  head  for  a  moment,  then  cooled  her  eyes  with 
a  soft  handkerchief  dipped  into  the  water  of  a 
bowl  of  roses.  In  ten  minutes  she  was  herself 
again. 

At  last  the  afternoon. 

She  saw  the  flowers  arrive  in  a  waggon,  stacks 
of  them,  tall  trees  and  boxes  of  foliage  to  make  a 
background  for  the  band,  which  was  to  be  put  at 
the  far  end  of  the  dining-room  near  the  orange- 
trees,  on  a  sort  of  dais  away  from  the  windows  that 
led  out  to  the  garden  and  the  lawn.  When  she 
went  to  see  what  was  being  done  soon  after  four 
o'clock,  Rogers  and  his  people  were  busy  with  the 
table;  it  was  being  laid  for  twenty  or  more,  she 
thought,  but  she  had  not  intellect  enough  left  to 
count  the  places.  They  stopped  when  she  entered, 
as  if  they  resented  her  coming.  The  servants 
never  forgot,  and  she  knew  it,  that  Mrs.  Berwick 

240 


Gave  a  Party 

might  be  a  lady,  or  think  herself  one,  but  she  was 
paid  to  be  there,  just  the  same  as  they  were,  and 
between  them  there  was  always  much  civility, 
but  also  some  veiled  resentment,  which  occasion- 
ally expressed  itself  on  their  side  in  a  little  ventur- 
ing familiarity. 

"I  came  to  see  the  flowers,  they  are  really 
beautiful,"  she  said  loftily;  she  found  loftiness  a 
diplomatic  attitude. 

"They're  not  bad,"  Rogers  answered  con- 
descendingly; "Mr.  Wendern  wants  things  done 
handsomely  to-night."  He  went  to  the  side- 
board and  began  to  take  the  foil  and  wire  off  the 
corks  of  some  extra  bottles  of  champagne,  leaving 
only  the  strings  to  be  cut,  before  laying  them 
down:  they  looked  better  with  the  foil  on  for  the 
table.  "This  is  the  brand  you're  so  fond  of — 
extra  dry,"  he  said,  and  looked  round  with  a  smile; 
he  had  grown  less  respectful  since  it  had  struck 
him  that  she  might  be  left  unpaid  with  the  rest, 
and  find  it  as  inconvenient  as  any  of  them. 

"Continue  your  work,  Rogers,  and  be  good 
enough  not  to  make  any  remarks. " 

"Certainly,  ma'am." 

She  went  up  to  the  orange-trees  and  lingered, 
not  choosing  to  be  hurried  away  by  the  impatient 
glances  of  the  servants,  unlocked  the  door  behind 
the  trees  and  looked  out  at  the  green  expanse  be- 

241 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

yond.  She  could  see  the  Fiffer  windows  on  the 
right,  half  screened  by  the  trees;  a  little  journey- 
ing breeze  wandered  by  and  lifted  the  leaves  on 
its  way,  so  that  she  saw  the  white  curtains  of  the 
room  she  knew  to  be  Katherine's.  She  closed  the 
door  and  went  back  towards  the  table  that  was  a 
chaos  at  present  with  preparations  for  the  night's 
festivity. 

Suddenly,  through  the  open  door,  she  saw  Wen- 
dern's  kitbags  being  carried  across  the  hall  towards 
the  stairs. 


242 


CHAPTER  XXI 

HE  had  come  back! 
She  nearly  cried  out  for  joy  and  relief; 
she  could  scarcely  hide  her  excitement.  "Oh— 
she  went  forward  with  a  quickness  that  was 
promptly  checked.  On  the  threshold  she  found 
herself  face  to  face  with  him.  "Oh,  Mr.  Wendern, 
you  have  come!  And  you  look  much  better — it 
has  done  you  good?  Did  the  motor  meet  you? 
I  heard  that  it  came  from  the  makers  this  morn- 
ing. "  A  little  resentment  darted  into  her  heart 
as  she  thought  that  perhaps  Rogers  had  known 
the  hour  of  his  return,  and  she  had  been  cheated 
of  some  anticipation. 

"I  am  much  better,"  Wendern  answered  with 
a  grateful  smile:  he  seemed  pleased  to  see  her. 
"I've  been  to  the  sea  and  rested;  and — no,  the 
motor  didn't  meet  me;  I  came  in  a  taxi.  But 
I  shall  want  it,"  he  added,  turning  to  Rogers; 
"  I  am  going  out  again  at  five,  or  soon  afterwards. " 
He  looked  anxiously  at  the  preparations  for  the 
feast,  and  seemed  to  have  some  plan  in  his  head: 
she  wondered  what  it  might  be.  Hardly  knowing 
what  she  did,  she  followed  him  to  the  morning- 

243 


George  Wendern 

room;  it  worried  him,  and  she  knew  it, — he  ex- 
pected her  to  leave  him  alone  after  the  morning. 
But  it  was  no  good — she  had  to  follow  him;  she 
felt  irresponsible,  almost  hypnotised.  He  waited 
for  her  to  go,  but  she  couldn't  go,  she  wouldn't. 

"Is  there  a  telegram  for  me?"  he  asked  im- 
patiently and  sent  for  Rogers. 

"No,  sir,  none  has  come." 

There  was  a  sound  of  the  front  door  being  noisily 
closed.  "Perhaps  that's  it;  go  and  see,"  escaped 
Wendern's  lips.  Then  she  knew  that  his  calm- 
ness, like  her  own,  was  assumed. 

Rogers  looked  behind  him.  "It's  Mr.  Tillatt, 
sir,  he  always  comes  in  that  way." 

"Tillatt— who's  he?" 

"The  man  in  possession,  sir." 

"He  gives  himself  dreadful  airs,"  Mrs.  Berwick 
said,  "and  always  goes  in  and  out  by  the  front 
door." 

"Never  mind — he'll  go  into  hell  by  the  front 
door  some  day  and  never  come  out. "  He  turned 
to  her  when  Rogers  had  gone  and  explained,  "I 
thought  a  cable  would  have  been  here  by  this 
time." 

Then,  not  able  to  restrain  herself,  she  burst  out 
with,  "Oh,  I  hope  it  will  be  all  right.  It  will  end 
to-day,  I  know — I  saw  it  in  the  paper. " 

He  gave  a  little  shrug,  and  went  up  to  the  writ- 
244 


Gave  a  Party 

ing-table.  She  felt  that  she  ought  to  leave  him, 
but  still  something  held  her.  "If  it  doesn't  come 
soon,"  he  said,  as  if  speaking  to  himself  rather 
than  to  her,  "I  shall  be  up  a  tree." 

"Mr.  Wendern,"  for  she  could  bear  it  no  longer, 
"you  told  me  you  were  giving  this  supper-party 
to  the  shareholders  of  the  Syndicate?" 

"Quite  right.     I'm  giving  it  to  some  of  them." 

"I  heard — it — was  not  doing  very  well?" 

"It's  doing  very  badly.  Financial  paper  to- 
day had  a  long  article  about  it. " 

"Oh,  but  that's  good,  isn't  it?"  she  asked  and 
looked  up  sympathetic  and  with  appealing  eyes. 

"Well,  no,"  he  answered  with  a  cynical  smile, 
"not  very — it  denounces  it  as  a  wild-cat  scheme." 

"Oh " 

"Perhaps  because  it  wasn't  bribed  to  say  the 
reverse. " 

"I'm  sure  that's  it." 

"Well — you  are  a  nice  woman;  but  you  know 
nothing  about  it.  Personally,  I  think  the  paper  is 
right." 

"Oh — "  she  said  again  as  if  alarmed,  though  she 
was  soothed  at  being  called  a  nice  woman,  "but 
mayn't  I  know  something  about  it  before  the  rest 
do  ?  Anything  that  concerns  you — "  She  clasped 
her  hands  against  her  bosom. 

A  little  apprehension  came  into  his  face  again, 

245 


George  Wendern 

as  if  he  feared  another  scene  was  coming.  But 
a  look  at  her  face  showed  him  that  she  had  herself 
well  under  control.  "The  Syndicate  is,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  doing  very  badly,"  he  said  and 
waited  a  moment.  "The  very  little  shareholders 
are  safe,  but  some  others,  reckless  beggars  or  fat, 
living  in  well-feathered  nests,  came  in  on  the 
strength  of  my  name.  I've  called  them  together, 
as  well  as  some  other  unfortunate  devils  to  whom 
I  owe  money — perhaps  they'll  get  a  cheque  each. 
If  the  cable  is  good,  I  mean  if  the  lawsuit  is  over, 
they  will,  if  it  is  not " 

"If— if  it  is  not?" 

"Then  I  shall  still  be  able  to  pay  them  off  from 
another  source — and  to-night — before  they  leave 
the  house — "  He  waited  again,  a  queer  look  came 
into  his  eyes.  "If  anything  should  prevent  that — 
why,  it  will  be  amusing  to  see  them  riotous  with 
rage. " 

"Oh,  Mr.  Wendern,  how  can  you  risk  it?" 

"Don't  be  afraid.  Besides,  risks  give  life  some 
of  its  best  excitements;  it  would  be  dull  without 
them.  The  riot  will  be  short,  if  there  is  one  at 
all.  Have  you  seen  anything  of  our  friends  over 
the  way?"  He  nodded  towards  the  garden. 

"Miss  Fiffer  was  walking  up  and  down  the  gar- 
den with  Lord  Derbyshire — I  mean  Lord  Kenton 
— this  morning,  but  I  only  spoke  to  her  for  a  mo- 

246 


Gave  a  Party 

ment.  They  didn't  look  very  happy,"  she  added, 
for  it  had  struck  her  curiously  afterwards  how 
unloverlike  they  had  seemed.  "I  passed  Mrs. 
Fiffer  out  driving  this  afternoon,  and  she  looked 
very  cross — she  didn't  see  me — 

"Ah — I  heard  the  door  bell."  He  raised  his 
head. 

"How  acute  your  hearing  is,  I  didn't  notice 
it." 

"There  are  times  when  one  can  hear  the  rustle 
of  an  angel's  wing  in  Paradise  or  the  grin  of  a  fiend 
in  hell." 

Rogers  brought  in  a  buff  envelope.  There  was 
a  slight  convulsive  movement  of  Wendern's  fin- 
gers when  he  opened  it,  but  he  showed  no  sign  as 
he  read  it,  and  she  was  not  sure  whether  it  was  the 
cable  or  merely  an  ordinary  telegram.  "There  is 
no  answer,"  he  said,  and  stared  at  it  absently, 
then  turned  away  with  it  in  his  hand. 

For  the  life  of  her  she  couldn't  ask  if  it  was  the 
verdict;  besides  he  never  allowed  himself  to  be 
questioned.  She  waited  silently  with  her  still 
hands  clasped,  hoping  he  would  speak;  it  seemed 
to  her  that  the  seconds,  as  they  went  by,  lingered 
to  hear,  and  the  clock  ticked  more  loudly  than 
usual;  but  he  said  nothing.  Again  when  she  could 
bear  it  no  longer  a  little  sound  came  from  her  lips, 
it  served  to  bring  her  back  to  his  remembrance. 

247 


George  Wendern 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  Joe  Parker?" 
he  asked.  "Has  he  come  back  from  Yarmouth?" 

She  tried  to  answer  naturally.  "Yes.  He  said 
he  would  come  in  between  six  and  seven  to-day — 
that  he  might  have  something  to  tell  you. " 

Wendern  looked  at  the  clock.  "I  can't  wait  for 
him."  He  rang  again  and  asked  Rogers,  "Is  the 
motor  at  the  door?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Good."  He  thrust  the  cable  or  telegram  into 
his  pocket  and  looked  puzzled,  as  if  trying  to  re- 
member something,  and  seemed  quite  unconscious 
of  Mrs.  Berwick's  anxiety.  "If  Joe  comes,  you 
must  keep  him  till  I  return,"  he  said  in  an  ab- 
sent voice,  then  recovering  his  self-possession  he 
asked  with  the  smile  that  always  made  her  heart 
beat  quicker,  "I  hope  he  took  care  of  you  while  I 
was  away?" 

"Yes,  yes,  thank  you,"  she  said  impatiently, 
what  did  anything  matter  to  her  except  this — 
this — man's  concerns. 

"That's  right,"  he  nodded  approvingly.  "If 
I'm  not  back  when  he  comes  tell  him  I've  gone  to 
the  Grosvenor  Hotel  to  see  Lant,  and  ask  him  to 
wait  for  me," — he  stopped  abruptly  and  looked  at 
his  watch.  "A  quarter  past  five — plenty  of  time. 
I  must  see  how  the  supper-table  is  going  to  look. 
Tell  Joe  about  the  party — but  of  course  you  did  ? 

248 


Gave  a  Party 

— say,  I  want  him  to  come,  I  forgot  to  invite 
him." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad — I  didn't  tell  him  anything 
about  it — I  thought  you  might  be  angry — but  I 
did  so  hope  he  would  be  here,"  she  had  been 
quite  embarrassed  at  the  thought  of  his  not  com- 
ing. 

Wendern  went  quickly  back  to  the  dining-room, 
and  again  she  followed  him;  it  was  no  good,  she 
couldn't  help  it;  she  noticed  how  tall  he  looked, 
perhaps  because  he  wore  the  thin  loose  overcoat 
in  which  he  had  come  up  from  Winchelsea. 

"Rogers,"  he  said,  "Mr.  Parker  will  sit  at  the 
other  end.  See  there  is  plenty  of  champagne,  a 
bottle  to  every  man,  and  put  it  on  the  table  so 
that  they  can  help  themselves.  Yes,  that  chair 
for  Mr.  Parker — that's  right,  but  closer  to  the 
trees — it's  a  long  table — they  make  a  good  back- 
ground. I  shall  want  pen  and  ink  put  near  me," 
he  felt  in  his  breast-pocket;  Mrs.  Berwick  di- 
vined that  he  touched  a  cheque-book.  He  looked 
towards  the  clock.  "Twenty  minutes  past  five, 
I  must  go. " 

He  went  out  into  the  hall,  and  yet  again 
she  followed  him.  Some  abject  fear  she  didn't 
stay  to  define  impelled  her.  Suddenly  he  darted 
back  to  the  morning-room.  Craning  her  neck, 
she  saw  that  he  went  towards  the  writing-table. 

249 


George  Wendern 

Her  hearing  was  as  acute  as  his  own  now.  She 
heard  the  little  jingle  of  some  keys  as  he  took  them 
from  his  pocket,  and  the  opening  and  shutting  of 
a  drawer — the  bottom  one  on  the  right-hand  side 
of  the  table.  She  recognised  a  little  squeaking 
sound  it  made.  When  he  returned  she  knew  that 
he  had  put  something  into  the  side-pocket  of  his 
overcoat;  a  look  of  determination  was  on  his 
face. 

A  spasm  of  wild  terror  passed  through  her,  an 
awful  thought  possessed  her.  "Oh,  Mr.  Wen- 
dern," she  said  in  an  undertone,  so  that  they  might 
not  hear  her  in  the  dining-room,  "where  are  you 
going?"  She  clutched  at  his  sleeve.  "What  are 
you  going  to  do?" 

He  looked  at  her  surprised,  half  amused  in  a 
sorry  way,  for  he  saw  that  she  was  distracted. 
"I  don't  know,"  he  answered.  "A  rudderless 
ship  sometimes  goes  where  no  steersman  would 
have  driven  it. "  He  took  a  step  towards  the  door. 
As  he  opened  it  he  looked  back.  His  tone  was 
kind,  almost  affectionate,  and  she  realised  it. 
"You'll  see  to  everything,  I  know,"  he  said; 
"you  always  do.  By  the  way,  that  band  hasn't 
been  told  what  it  is  to  play,  has  it?  Find  out 
what  they  can  do,  and  turn  on  anything  you  think 
appropriate." 

"It  ought  to  be  lively." 
250 


Gave  a  Party 

"As  you  please,"  he  answered  with  a  shrug. 
"The  'Last  Post,'  if  you  like."  She  gave  a  little 
gasp,  but  before  she  could  speak  he  added,  "Mind 
you  tell  Joe  he  must  be  here  to-night. "  He  took 
her  hand.  "And  be  good  to  him.  He's  the  best 
chap  in  the  world,  the  best  friend  I  ever  had.  Au 
revoir  again. "  In  a  moment  he  had  gone,  he  had 
looked  back  at  her  with  a  smile  and  a  triumphant 
look  in  his  eyes. 

She  staggered  to  the  morning-room  and  man- 
aged to  open  the  window,  for  she  couldn't  breathe; 
she  was  dazed  and  paralysed  with  terror.  It 
seemed  as  if  some  other  self  than  the  one  of  which 
she  was  conscious  knew  and  saw  tragedy  approach- 
ing, but  had  not  yet  withdrawn  the  veil  that  hid  it 
from  her  actual  eyes.  If  she  had  only  known  what 
the  cable  held, — if  it  was  the  cable, — but  if  it  had 
been  the  verdict  he  would  surely  have  told  her. 
Besides,  it  would  have  been  in  the  evening  paper, 
which  had  come  half  an  hour  ago.  She  was  certain 
it  was  not  there — she  snatched  it  up  from  the 
sofa  and  turned  it  over  again,  as  she  had  done 
when  it  came,  scanning  it  from  end  to  end.  No, 
not  a  word  concerning  the  Dock  case.  There  was 
some  mystery  she  couldn't  fathom,  some  terrible 
crisis  at  hand.  She  felt  that  it  had  to  do  with 
Christopher  Lant,  and  that  on  the  interview  be- 
tween him  and  Wendern  everything  depended.  A 

251 


George  Wendern 

score  of  suggestions  came  crowding  into  her  brain 
—impossible  meanings  to  every  word  he  had 
spoken,  impossible  endings  of  the  present  situation, 
of  ways  out  of  the  maze  in  which  she  seemed  to 
be  standing.  If  the  Dock  case  went  right — if  the 
verdict  came — if  Wendern  really  had  the  money  to 
pay  off  these  shareholders  who  were  coming  to  sup- 
per— For  a  moment  it  went  through  her  that 
he  was  bluffing  them.  After  all,  fascinating  men 
had  been  known  to  do  terribly  unexpected  and 
shady  things;  suppose  matters  had  gone  so 
wrong  with  him  that  he  meant  to  bolt  and  leave 
every  one  in  the  lurch  ?  She  hated  herself  for  the 
moment's  suspicion.  George  Wendern  do  so  mean 
a  thing!  He  wouldn't,  he  wouldn't — she  knew  it. 
He  was  like  no  one  else  in  the  world,  and,  oh !  she 
loved  him  as  she  had  never  loved  any  one  on  earth. 
She  would  never  own  it  or  betray  it,  but  her  heart 
and  soul  knew  it  and  would  know  it  to  all  eternity. 
Moreover,  she  loved  him  so  well  that  beyond  all 
things  she  longed  for  his  happiness,  though  she 
might  never  for  a  moment  share  it,  except  with 
the  joy  of  an  onlooker.  It  was  a  proof  of  how 
utterly  beyond  her  reach  she  knew  him  to  be  that 
she  could  contemplate  marriage,  and  even  con- 
tentment, with  Joe  Parker;  but  she  was  so  tired 
of  steering  her  own  life,  she  longed  for  dependence 
on  a  man — a  strong,  straight,  clean-souled  man 

252 


Gave  a  Party 

who  would  take  care  of  her  and  give  her  the  shelter 
and  safety  of  his  strength.  Then  she  felt  it 
would  be  possible  to  live,  even  to  be  content, 
though  romance  and  all  the  happy  dreams  that 
come  of  love  and  passion  were  for  ever  beyond  her 
reach. 

The  clock  chimed  half  past  five.  He  was  at 
the  Grosvenor  by  this  time,  she  wondered  what  he 
and  Lant  had  to  say  to  each  other.  She  had  rather 
liked  Lant;  a  vulgar  man  and  probably  an  impos- 
tor— for  she  had  summed  him  up  quickly,  but  with 
generous  inpulses,  easy-going  and  full  of  compli- 
ments to  women.  Perhaps 

The  telephone  bell  rang. 

With  a  caution  that  was  natural  to  her,  she  flew 
to  the  door  and  closed  it,  then  back  to  the  re- 
ceiver. 

"Mrs.  Berwick?" 

"Yes,  I'm  here."  It  was  George  Wendern's 
voice,  there  was  an  agitation  in  it  that  she  felt, 
rather  than  heard. 

"My  dear  lady,"  he  said,  "will  you  be  so  very 
kind  as  to  make  yourself  look  charming — though 
you  always  do;  and  if  I'm  not  back  in  time  I 
want  you  to  be  in  the  drawing-room  to  receive  the 
guests  for  me  when  they  arrive  at  eleven  o'clock. " 

"Oh— I  couldn't— I  should  be  afraid- 

"You  will  do  it  perfectly,"  she  imagined  the 

253 


George  Wendern 

little  smile  with  which  he  said  it.  "Talk  to  them, 
be  as  gracious  as  you  always  are,  make  any  excuse 
you  like  for  my  absence,  say  that  I've  been  away, 
that  unexpected  business  has  detained  me,  but  I 
am  hurrying  back.  At  a  quarter  past  eleven,  if 
I  have  not  arrived,  bring  them  down  to  the  dining- 
room,  and  do  me  the  great  kindness  to  have  sup- 
per with  us " 

"Have  supper  with  you — "  she  gasped. 

"If  you  will?  I  want  you  to  sit  at  the  head  of 
the  table.  Tell  them  to  alter  my  place  to  the 
other  end,  where  Joe  was  to  sit,  then  I  can  slip 
in  through  the  conservatory — see  that  the  door 
is  unlocked,  and  I  will  take  my  place  with  my 
back  to  the  orange-trees — at  worst  I  shall  be  there 
before  you  are  halfway  through. " 

"Halfway  through — "  she  echoed  faintly. 

"By  that  time  you  will  have  charmed  them  all. " 

"Oh,  but  must  I  come  down  to  supper  with 
them?" 

He  took  no  notice  and  went  on.  "Tell  me  you 
will  be  as  kind  as  you  always  are  and  do  what  I 
ask?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Wendern,"  she  sighed  again,  while 
a  vision  of  herself  in  her  soft  grey  satin  dress  with 
black  velvet  bows  and  paste  buckles— and  of  a 
score  of  men  admiring  her,  and  no  rival  in  the 
field — went  through  her. 

254 


Gave  a  Party 

"Two  of  your  friends  will  be  there,  Joe  Parker 
and — Mr. — Mr.  Bulson;  put  them  on  either  side 
of  you  and  make  time  if  I  am  not  there.  You  will 
doit?" 

"Oh,  ifyouwish- 

"I  knew  you  would,  you  are  always  amiable, 
and  you  help  me  greatly  by  promising  to  do  this. 
Before  I  make  my  ultimate  communication  to 
them,  if — if  it  is  necessary" — he  laid  a  queer  em- 
phasis on  the  word,  "I  will  make  a  sign  and  you 
shall  escape,"  a  little  sound  that  he  had  not 
intended  her  to  hear  came  through  as  he  put  down 
the  receiver;  it  sent  another  stab  of  terror  through 
her.  Something  was  going  to  happen,  she  knew 
it,  but  she  had  no  clue  to  what  it  might  be.  She 
supposed  him  to  be  at  the  Grosvenor  Hotel,  but 
nothing  had  betrayed  whether  any  one  else  was  in 
the  room  when  he  telephoned,  or  where  the  mes- 
sage came  from.  She  looked  at  the  clock  again — • 
only  five  minutes  since  the  bell  rang — twenty-five 
since  he  had  left  the  house,  but  she  felt  that  a  great 
deal  had  occurred  in  them.  She  threw  herself  on 
the  sofa,  and  for  a  few  minutes  tried  to  make  her- 
self unconscious  of  everything  about  her,  of  every- 
thing that  might  happen;  her  nerves  and  brain 
needed  rest  from  the  tension  of  the  last  hour. 

"If  only  Joe  Parker  would  come,"  she  moaned 
presently;  and  dragging  herself  to  the  looking- 

255 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

glass  stood  critically  examining  her  face.  Hag- 
gard and  old,  with  lines  about  the  mouth  and  eyes 
— and  what  a  difference  it  made  when  her  hair 
was  pushed  back  from  her  temples.  Joe  mustn't 
see  her  like  this — and  he  would  be  here  directly. 
She  cooled  her  eyes  with  her  hands  and  arranged 
her  hair;  she  knew  that  the  dark  blue  skirt  and  the 
dainty  muslin  blouse  she  wore  were  becoming,  if 
she  could  rid  her  face  of  its  careworn  expression 
she  could  gather  courage  for  the  interview  with 
him.  Thank  goodness  he  was  coming  to  supper. 

Then  she  remembered  Wendern's  instructions 
and  went  to  the  dining-room  again.  She  managed 
to  put  on  a  haughty  manner — or  what  she  meant 
to  be  one — while  she  made  the  alterations  he  had 
indicated,  and  explained  to  the  servants  that  Mr. 
Wendern  had  just  telephoned  them,  and  that  if 
he  were  not  back  she  would  take  his  place  at  the 
table. 

They  were  astounded.  "Well,  I  never  did," 
Rogers  said  when  she  had  gone.  "I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  she  plays  first  fiddle  here:  she  will  if 
we  don't  look  out,  or  it  looks  very  much  like  it. " 


256 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A  QUARTER  of  an  hour  later  Joe  Parker 
came.  He  was  in  high  spirits,  evidently 
full  of  a  matter  that  he  considered  important,  and 
delighted  to  see  her. 

"Good  evening,  marm,"  he  said.  He  always 
found  it  difficult  to  drop  the  "marm"  at  the  be- 
ginning of  an  interview.  "I'm  glad  to  be  here 
again.  I'd  have  come  earlier,  but — '  He 
stopped  mysteriously.  "I  hope  you  got  my  post- 
card from  Yarmouth?" 

"Oh  yes;  and  it's  so  nice  to  see  you,  dear  Mr. 
Parker."  She  put  out  her  hand,  and  tried  not 
to  wince  at  the  strong  grip  he  gave  it. 

"They  tell  me  that  George  has  been  back  and 
gone  out  again.  But  what's  all  this  fuss  about 
out  yonder?"  He  nodded  in  the  direction  of  the 
hall.  "They  seem  to  be  doing  something  pretty 
extensive  in  the  way  of  table-laying;  there  are 
flowers  enough  to  stock  a  market  garden?" 

He  was  looking  with  surprise  at  her  face.  It 
showed  signs  of  the  agitation  she  had  been  going 
through;  perhaps  that  was  why  he  still  held  her 
hand,  for  it  was  not  the  sort  of  thing  Joe  Parker 

257 


George  Wendern 

did.    And  it  was  Wendern's  affairs,  not  Mrs.  Ber- 
wick, that  filled  his  thoughts  at  the  moment. 

"There's  going  to  be  a  supper-party  at  eleven 
o'clock,"  she  explained.  "Mr.  Wendern  wants 
you  to  come  to  it.  He  told  me  to  invite  you. " 

"George  always  does  something  you  wouldn't 
expect.  I  should  have  thought  it  was  about  the 
last  day  he  would  have  cared  for  party-giving — 
but  what's  upsetting  you?  You  don't  look  up  to 
much;  nothing  happened — to  George,  I  mean?" 

"I'm  not  up  to  much — I'm  so  frightened  and 
unhappy. "  She  tried  not  to  shiver  with  the  dread 
that  possessed  her,  and,  for  the  life  of  her,  she 
could  not  put  it  into  words. 

"Well,  but  don't  take  it  as  badly  as  that — buck 
up." 

"I  will." 

"Look  here,"  he  went  on,  "there  are  a  few  loose 
diamonds  in  my  pocket." 

"Oh — "    Her  lips  refused  to  atriculate. 

"You  heard  what  I  said,  didn't  you?" 

"Yes,  dear  Mr.  Parker,  I  heard — the  dia- 
monds?" 

"And — well,  I've  not  seen  a  woman  I'd  like 
better  to  have  a  bit  of  gold  put  round  them  for. " 

She  struggled  again  to  whip  up  her  spirits,  and 
managed  to  give  a  sickly  smile.  "I've  not  seen  a 
man  I'd  like  better  to  wear  them  for,"  she  said. 

258 


Gave  a  Party 

"Then  that's  agreed." 

"Oh,  but  everything  is  going  wrong — I'm  so  un- 
happy." 

"You're  getting  nervous,  that's  what  it  is,"  he 
answered  in  his  strong  kindly  voice.  "I  expect 
George  is  down  on  his  luck.  He's  had  his  cable, 
I  suppose?" 

"I  don't  know.  Something  came.  He  didn't 
tell  me  whether  it  was  a  telegram  or  the  cable, 
and  I  was  afraid  to  ask. " 

"Well,  the  Dock  case  is  finished,  verdict  against 
him,  heavy  costs." 

It  took  her  by  the  throat.  A  cry  escaped  her. 
"Against  him?  Oh,  no,  no — are  you  sure?" 

"It's  in  the  evening  paper — you'd  better  look." 
He  went  towards  the  one  lying  on  the  sofa. 

"It's  not  there.     I  looked  all  through  it." 

"It's  an  early  edition," — he  threw  it  aside, — 
"you'll  find  it  in  the  next  one;  that's  where  I  saw 
it.  No  one  reckoned  it  would  go  that  way." 

"  Oh,  what  will  he  do  ? "  She  broke  down  utterly 
and  sobbed. 

He  liked  her  for  it.  "This  is  a  nice  woman, "  he 
thought.  "  She's  got  a  heart,  and  keeps  it  in  work- 
ing order." 

"Oh,  dear  Mr.  Wendern!"  she  wailed. 

He  watched  her  distress  almost  triumphantly. 
"Look  here,"  he  said,  "don't  you  fret;  it  doesn't 
matter — doesn't  matter  a  lost  button." 

259 


George  Wendern 

"But  it  does — it's  so  cruel — you  don't  know 
what  he  is. " 

"I  can  make  a  good  guess — guess  even  what  he 
is  to  a  woman." 

She  dried  her  tears,  but  her  brain  whirled. 
"Oh,  you  don't  understand,"  she  said  vehemently. 
"He  meant  to  pay  every  one — people  belonging 
to  the  Syndicate  and  all  sorts  of  other  people — 
now — to-night;  they  were  to  have  supper  here 
first,  and  then — that's  what  this  party  means. " 

"Well!  George  was  always  a  maniac,  but  I 
never  thought  he  would  count  his  chickens  be- 
fore they  were  hatched  in  this  fashion.  How  did 
he  think  he  was  going  to  get  the  money  if  he  wasn't 
sure  of  the  Dock  verdict,  and  that's  been  going 
off  the  rails  for  him  the  last  day  or  two?" 

It  seemed  part  of  the  cruelty  of  the  hour  that  he 
should  take  it  so  easily.  "I  don't  know.  There's 
a  man  downstairs — a  man  in  possession,"  it  had 
a  frightening  sound  to  her,  but  it  only  seemed  to 
amuse  him. 

"  Hi ! — George  is  going  the  whole  way  along  while 
he's  about  it." 

"  But  if  things  are  wrong  with  the  Syndicate  and 
the  Dock  verdict  is  against  him,  he  must  be 
ruined. " 

"Yes,  George  is  about  ruined,  I  can  tell  you. 
Where  has  he  gone,  do  you  happen  to  know?" 

"To  the  Grosvenor  Hotel  to  meet  some  one." 
260 


Gave  a  Party 

"Of  course,  I  ought  to  have  remembered,  but 
I've  been  taken  up  with  something  just  as  exciting 
as  George's  business. " 

"He  said  he  had  an  appointment  with  Mr. 
Lant — he  told  me  to  tell  you  so. " 

"Why,  yes,  he  wrote  about  it — told  me  him- 
self, but  I'd  forgotten.  Well,  he  won't  find  Lant. 
Lant  took  a  train  for  Southampton  as  soon  as 
he  heard  the  Derryford  verdict." 

"But  there's  a  meeting  of  the  Syndicate  to- 
morrow, I  saw  one  of  the  notices  lying  about. " 

"Lant  won't  be  there.  He's  given  it  the  slip 
and  means  George  to  have  it  out  with  them  alone. " 

"Oh,  it's  too  much,  it's  too  much,"  she  wrung 
her  hands. 

"Look  here,  Mrs.  Berwick,  I  tell  you  again  not 
to  worry  so,  it's  just  waste  of  good  living  time." 

"  But  all  sorts  of  people  are  coming  to  this  mad 
party — coming  to  be  paid,  they  expect  it,  he  told 
me  so;  it  is  why  he  asked  them. "  Then  the  mean- 
ing of  the  terror  that  had  possessed  her  betrayed 
itself.  "He  means,  if  everything  goes  wrong,  to 
kill  himself — perhaps  he  has  already — I  know  it — 
I  know  it  well,  for  he  took  something  from  that 
drawer, — his  pistols  were  in  there.  He  meant  to 
kill  Lant  if  things  went  wrong,  but  if  Lant  has 
gone,  he'll — "  she  couldn't  put  it  into  words  again. 

"Well?" 

261 


George  Wendern 

"Oh,  don't  you  understand,"  she  cried,  mad- 
dened and  terrified,  "he  means  to  shoot  himself." 

"Not  he.  George  is  made  of  finer  stuff  than 
that." 

"I  can't  think  why  he  wants  me  to  receive  the 
guests  and  bring  them  down  if  he  is  not  back. " 
She  told  him  of  the  telephone  message. 

"When  did  he  start?" 

"Three-quarters  of  an  hour  before  you  came." 

"Has  he  got  the  motor  out?" 

"Yes — he  went  in  it." 

"Wouldn't  take  him  more  than  ten  minutes  to 
get  there,"  Parker  said  thoughtfully.  "He  ought 
to  be  back  here  again.  It's  that  telephone  busi- 
ness I  don't  understand.  What  the  mischief  is 
he  after?" 

"Hark—  '  she  said  suddenly,  "I  thought  I 
heard  him." 

Parker  went  to  the  hall,  opened  the  front  door, 
and  looked  out.  He  came  back  shaking  his  head. 
"He's  not  there.  Look  here,  I  think  I'd  better  go 
after  him,  I'll  track  him,  trust  me.  Perhaps  he's 
gone  to  his  club.  Anyhow,  you  may  be  sure  of  one 
thing,  Mrs:  Berwick,  I'll  bring  him  back  safe  and 
sound."  But  his  face  had  grown  long  and  anx- 
ious. "I  believe  I'd  give  my  life  for  George,"  he 
added. 

"And  I  would." 

262 


Gave  a  Party 

"Then  there  are  two  of  us  who'd  do  it. " 

"You  do  love  him,"  she  said  with  a  spasm  of 
relief  at  something  being  done.  "  I  can  feel  that. " 

"Why,  yes,  there  isn't  any  doubt  about  it." 

"And  I  don't  wonder,  he's  so  good." 

"He's  good  enough — a  flick  of  the  devil  in  him 
too,  and  he's  all  the  better  for  it." 

"Every  one  is.  I  wouldn't  be  wholly  good  my- 
self for  all  the  world. " 

"Well,  you  don't  look  it." 

"Oh — "  she  gave  a  sorry  little  laugh  as  she 
walked  with  him  to  the  door. 

"But  I  shouldn't  mind  taking  you  further?" 
He  stopped  and  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  with 
heavy  affection. 

"I  shouldn't  mind  going.  Find  George  Wen- 
dern,  save  him — bring  him  back,  and  I'll_do  any- 
thing in  the  world  for  you. " 

"That's  agreed— eh?" 

"Yes,  yes — "  she  was  hurrying  him  away. 

"I'll  do  it,"  he  repeated;  he  was  in  the  hall, 
on  the  door-step  now;  "you'll  see — and  look  here, 
you  shall  give  me  a  kiss  if  I  do, "  he  turned  away 
sheepishly,  he  was  unaccustomed  to  love-making. 
"But  I  wonder  what  the  mischief  he's  after?"  he 
added  anxiously  to  himself  as  he  left  the  house  and 
hailed  a  taxi. 

She  sat  down  again  with  her  hands  clasped  and 
263 


George  Wendern 

listened — listened.  It  wasn't  possible  to  hear 
things  passing  the  front  of  the  house,  but  the  room 
door  was  open,  and  a  hoot  or  some  extra  sound 
from  a  motor  might  penetrate  to  ears  as  keen  as 
hers  were  now;  and  from  one  side  of  the  room 
the  whole  length  of  the  hall,  could  be  seen. 

"Oh,  if  he  would  come,  if  he  would  come!" 

But  there  was  no  sign.  Gradually  she  grew 
calmer;  Parker's  visit  and  his  attitude  towards 
Wendern  had  done  her  good.  If  he  found  him  all 
would  be  well. 

"There's  nothing  to  be  gained  by  worrying," 
she  said  at  last,  "and  if  I  have  to  receive  these 
men  I  must  pull  myself  together. " 

She  looked  in  at  the  dining-room  once  more. 
They  were  busy  removing  the  little  platform  that 
had  been  erected  for  the  band.  Rogers  explained 
that  the  leader  had  been,  and  said  that  the  music 
would  be  too  loud;  it  had  better  be  put  on  the 
landing  half-way  towards  the  drawing-room,  where 
a  space  projected  roofed  in  with  glass.  There  were 
palms,  low  much-cushioned  seats,  and  brass  hang- 
ing-lamps there  that  gave  it  a  picturesque  but 
cheap  Eastern  suggestion. 

"Yes,  I  think  it  will  be  much  better,"  she  said, 
and  stood  for  a  little  time  aimlessly  watching 
the  change  being  effected. 

Eight  o'clock  struck.  "You'll  want  your  din- 
264 


Gave  a  Party 

ner,  ma'am,  even  if  you  are  coming  in  to  supper. 
It  will  be  ready,  I  expect. "  She  hated  the  familiar 
tone  of  the  servants. 

"I  don't  want  any.  Or  ask  them  to  send  just 
a  little  soup  to  my  room,  and  to  tell  me  immedi- 
ately if  Mr.  Wendern  returns. "  She  went  slowly 
upstairs. 

"Looks  a  bit  chippy,"  Rogers  remarked; 
"daresay  she  feels  like  the  rest  of  us.  I  must  say 
I'm  a  good  deal  interested  in  this  game  myself, 
for  I  don't  see  how  it's  being  played  or  what  he's 
up  to.  But,  I  mean  to  stand  by  him — well,  as 
long  as  it's  possible." 

Mrs.  Berwick  was  utterly  exhausted,  and  gulped 
the  soup  down  gratefully.  Then  she  dressed. 
She  looked  pale,  but  pallor  was  becoming  to  her, 
and  the  fright  and  excitement  in  her  eyes  made 
them  bright  and  attractive.  The  satin  dress  fitted 
her  slim  figure  perfectly,  and  a  velvet  fillet  round 
her  head  threw  up  the  fairness  of  her  hair;  she 
drew  a  thin  lace  scarf  over  her  shoulders,  and  fast- 
ened it  with  a  glittering  star — the  lace  was  soften- 
ing and  modest-looking,  she  thought. 

Nine  o'clock.  She  was  quite  ready.  It  was 
nearly  dark,  the  summer  night  was  beginning. 
She  looked  out  of  the  window — her  room  was  a 
front  one  on  the  third  floor,  and  could  see  up  and 
down  the  main  road.  Scores  of  motors  whizzed 

265 


George  Wendern 

by,  their  lights  flashing,  but  none  stopped  before 
the  house,  though  several  turned  into  the  private 
road  that  runs  in  front  of  Princes  Gate. 

"Oh,  where  can  he  be?"  she  cried;  but  again 
a  belief  in  Parker  finding  him,  and  making  things 
right,  reassured  her;  and  she  thought,  not  without 
some  gleam  of  pleasurable  excitement,  of  the  sup- 
per-party and  the  manner  in  which  she  would 
receive  the  guests  if  it  fell  to  her  to  do  it. 

But  time  sped  on;  no  motor  stopped  before  the 
house.  Then  the  door  of  the  room  behind  her — 
as  she  still  craned  her  neck  out  of  window — was 
opened,  she  started  and  turned  quickly.  It 
went  through  her  that  although  she  had  not  heard 
it,  nor  seen  any  boy  approach,  a  telegram  might 
have  come  with  news,  or  the  telephone  brought 
it.  "Oh,  what  is  it?"  she  breathlessly  asked  the 
maid  who  entered. 

"Miss  Fiffer  says  could  you  possibly  see  her?" 

"Miss  Fiffer!"  What  could  Katherine  want 
at  this  time  of  night?  "Where  is  she?" 

"In  the  morning-room;  she  asked  if  she  might 
go  there. " 

Mrs.  Berwick  went  down  to  her.  The  window 
was  still  open  as  she  had  left  it;  the  grey  shadows 
seemed  to  come  trooping  in — softly  and  very 
swiftly.  A  small  silk-shaded  lamp  on  the  writing- 
table  had  been  switched  on,  but  there  was  no 

266 


Gave  a  Party 

other  light.  Katherine,  tall  and  slight,  was  stand- 
ing half-way  between  the  door  and  the  window. 
She  wore  a  long  black  chiffon  cloak,  it  looked  like 
a  dark  cloud  fallen  from  the  sky  and  wrapping  her 
round.  The  evening  dress  beneath  it  was  evi- 
dently dark  too,  but  there  were  some  pearls  round 
her  neck  and  in  her  bosom  a  cluster  of  small  white 
flowers — the  cloak  opened  and  showed  them.  She 
went  forward  as  Mrs.  Berwick  entered,  and  looked 
with  surprise  at  the  grey  satin  and  the  velvet  bows 
with  the  gleaming  paste  buckles.  "Oh,  do  you 
mind  my  coming — do  forgive  me,"  she  said.  "I 
felt  I  must  see  you,  but  I  will  not  keep  you  a 
minute.  You  are  going  somewhere?" 

"No.    Mr.  Wendern  is  out " 

"I  know.  That's  why  I  came.  It  is  you  that 
I  wanted  to  see.  He  passed  me  near  Victoria  this 
evening — about  half-past  five,  I  think.  His  face 
looked  stern  and  very  worried ;  he  turned  it  away 
and  didn't  see  me,  he  seemed  to  be  coming  from 
the  hotel — not  from  the  station.  I  came  back 
and  went  over  to  the  Park  and  sat  there.  I  should 
have  come  sooner  and  asked  for  you,  but  I  saw  Mr. 
Parker  come  and  go.  I  went  in — I  had  to,  for 
dinner,  or  mother  would  have  worried, — but  I 
knew  Mr.  Wendern  hadn't  come  back,  and  I 
couldn't  bear  it  any  longer."  She  took  Mrs. 
Berwick's  hands  and  drew  her  down  to  the  sofa. 

267 


George  Wendern 

"I  want  you  to  tell  me  about  him,  his  face  fright- 
ened me,  he  looked  so  miserable."  She  said  it 
almost  in  a  whisper,  her  voice  trembled  with  ex- 
citement. 

"  He  is — he's  heartbroken. " 

"Because  he  has  lost  his  lawsuit?" 

"Because — because  of  everything,"  Mrs.  Ber- 
wick answered,  hating  the  woman  who  had  been 
false  to  him,  "he  is  ruined " 

"That's  why  I  came" — she  held  on  to  the  back 
of  the  sofa  with  one  hand  and  put  the  other  to 
her  throat — "we  heard  it  an  hour  ago."  She 
stopped  for  a  moment  and  threw  her  head  a  little 
way  back.  Her  face  looked  very  beautiful,  but 
drawn  and  white  as  if  she  had  been  going  through 
some  suppressed  torture  of  which  she  refused  to 
speak.  Mrs.  Berwick  saw  it  and  it  hardened  her. 

"Why  should  you  care?"  she  asked  coldly. 
"You  are  not  going  to  marry  him.  You  don't  love 
him." 

"I  do,  I  do — why  should  I  hide  it  now,  or  pre- 
tend." She  leant  forward  and  took  Mrs.  Ber- 
wick's hands.  "We  are  two  women,  together 
and  alone — oh,  the  comfort  of  speaking  out." 

"  But  you  are  going  to  marry  Lord  Kenton. " 

"No— no,  I'm  not." 

"Do  you  mean  he  has  broken  it  off?" 

"I  broke  it  off." 

268 


Gave  a  Party 

"You! — but  he's  a  marquis  now,  he  has 
£100,000  a-year." 

"  I  know — that's  why. " 

"That's  why?"  Mrs.  Berwick  could  not  be- 
lieve her  ears. 

"  My  money  isn't  necessary  to  him  any  longer — 
why  should  I  marry  him?" 

"You  didn't  love  him?" 

Katherine's  voice  was  soft  and  full  of  passion  as 
she  answered,  "No,  I  never  loved  him — never  for 
a  single  moment.  I  love  George  Wendern,  and 
no  one  else  in  the  world.  When  Lord  Derbyshire 
came  into  the  title  and  heaps  of  money  from  his 
uncle,  I  told  him  there  was  no  longer  any  need  for 
me  to  marry  him;  that  I  had  only  taken  him  be- 
cause I  wanted  my  fortune  to  be  of  use  in  the 
world.  He  was  away  at  the  funeral,  but  I  wrote 
to  him,  and  we  had  it  out  this  morning,  walking 
up  and  down  the  garden.  You  saw  us?  I  told 
him  there  was  only  one  man  I  loved,  and  I  was 
breaking  my  heart  for  him — longing  for  him — 
dying  for  him.  Oh,  is  it  too  late — do  you  think 
it's  too  late?" 

"How  could  you  refuse  him?"  Mrs.  Berwick 
was  wonderstruck. 

"He  knows — George  Wendern  knows — he  was 
very  angry,  but  he  knows  why  I  did  it — and  he's 
everything  in  this  wide  world  to  me,  I  love  him — 
you  can't  dream  how  much  I  love  him." 

269 


George  Wendern 

"I  can,"  came  the  quick  answer,  "everyone 
does,  I  do " 

"You?"  Katherine  exclaimed,  and  looked  at 
Mrs.  Berwick,  at  the  beautiful  dress  and  sparkling 
ornaments,  while  some  fright  stole  over  her  face, 
as  if  she  thought  there  was  a  meaning  to  this 
elaborate  finery.  "You  love  him — does  he  know 
it?" 

"No,  and  he  never  will.  I  tell  you,  so  that  you 
may  trust  me.  I'm  going  to  marry  his  friend,  Joe 
Parker,  but  there's  no  one  in  the  world  like  Mr. 
Wendern.  Oh,  if  he  would  come  back  safely " 

"  Safely  ? "  Katherine  echoed,  taking  alarm  from 
the  tone.  "What  do  you  mean?  He  looked  like 
a  man  who  was  going  to  do  something  desperate. " 

"He  is.  I  know  it.  He  said  he  was  a  rudder- 
less ship,"  Mrs.  Berwick  answered,  "for  he  has 
lost  everything  in  the  world — he  went  to  the  Gros- 
venor  Hotel  to  meet  some  one  who  has  played  him 
false — there  too.  Joe  Parker  went  after  him " 

"But  what  does  this  mean?"  Katherine  asked, 
touching  the  grey  satin.  "And  all  the  flowers  in 
the  hall  and  on  the  stairs,  the  place  looks  as  if  he 
were  giving  a  party?" 

"He  is — to  the  people  to  whom  he  owes  money; 
he  has  invited  them  to  come  with  some  mad 
idea  that  he  would  be  able  to  pay  them.  But  he 
can't  now." 

"But  he  can.  I  want  to  lay  all  I  have  at  his 
270 


Gave  a  Party 

feet,  perhaps  he  will  walk  over  it — to  me,"  Kath- 
erine  said  humbly. 

"He  wouldn't  take  it.  He  wouldn't  touch  a 
penny  of  it,"  the  voice  was  full  of  cruel  bitterness. 
"You  don't  understand  him  as  I  do.  If  you  had 
loved  him  enough  he  might  have  been  saved,  he 
would  have  lived  for  you;  but  you've  killed  him — 
killed  the  man  you  love — "  she  stopped,  for  the 
fright  of  an  hour  ago  took  possession  of  her — as  if 
to  add  to  it  the  clock  struck  ten.  And  still  no 
Wendern. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  don't  know — I  can't  tell  you.  Joe  Parker 
may  bring  him  back,  or  he  may  be  too  late — " 
she  drew  away  from  Katherine  shuddering.  "He 
seemed  to  think  he  would  find  him,  but " 

"But?"  the  lips  had  grown  white. 

"He  may  be  dead — dead  already — and  if  he 
isn't  he  means  to  kill  himself — I  know  it." 

"What  can  we  do?"  She  was  half  paralysed 
with  terror.  „ 

Mrs.  Berwick  considered  for  a  few  desperate 
moments.  "  I  have  an  idea — in  case  he  does  come 
back — write  to  him,  a  single  line  will  do;  say  you 
love  him;  say  anything  you  can  that  will  make  him 
want  to  live.  Tell  him  you  have  broken  with  Lord 
Kenton — we'll  put  it  on  his  place  at  the  supper- 
table.  If  he  comes  he'll  find  it."  She  remem- 
bered his  last  words  at  the  telephone,  there  was 

271 


George  Wendern 

some  mystery  in  them,  some  threat  of  tragedy, 
this  change  in  Katherine  might  avert. 

"If? — why  do  you  go  on  repeating  that  word?" 
Katherine  exclaimed,  infected,  maddened  by  the 
dread  in  the  other's  voice.  "I  don't  believe  he 
would  invite  all  these  people  and  let  them  come 
for  you  to  face  if  he  didn't  mean  to  come — he  will 
come. " 

"You  are  splendid,  you  are  like  Joe  Parker,  he 
said  it  too — that  George  Wendern  was  made  of 
finer  stuff. "  She  held  out  her  hand. 

Katherine  took  it  as  a  beginning  of  the  forgive- 
ness for  which  she  hungered.  "Let  me  wait  with 
you — he  may  come — he  may  be  on  the  way — if  I 
could  see  him — "  she  said  humbly,  yet  with  the 
proud  set  back  of  her  head  that  Wendern  had  loved. 

"Oh,  if  you  could,"  Mrs.  Berwick  echoed. 

They  sat  together,  looking  at  the  clock,  silent, 
listening,  but  as  the  minutes  went  on,  with  no  sign 
of  his  returning,  the  fright  and  sickness  at  their 
hearts  became  too  terrible  for  words.  They  rose 
and  looked  at  each  other  and  stood  irresolute. 
"Come  and  write,"  Mrs.  Berwick  said  at  last. 

Katherine  went  to  the  table  and,  kneeling  by  it, 
wrote  on  the  sheet  of  paper  put  before  her — 

Is  it  too  late? — I  love  you — I  love  you,  and  I  want  you. 
Forgive  me,  and  take  me  to  the  shanty  on  the  other  side  of 
the  world. 

YOUR  KATHERINE. 
272 


Gave  a  Party 

She  folded  it  and  put  it  in  an  envelope.  "I'll 
put  *K'  in  the  corner,"  she  said  as  she  directed  it. 
"It  may  catch  his  eye — and  these,"  she  took  the 
white  flowers  from  her  bosom  and  kissed  them, 
"put  them  with  it." 

Mrs.  Berwick  took  her  hand.  "Come.  You 
shall  see." 

They  went  to  the  supper-room;  the  servants 
had  finished,  only  a  single  electric  lamp  was 
switched  on.  The  long  table  was  gorgeously  laid, 
the  room  a  mass  of  flowers.  A  forest  of  trees, 
orange-trees  chiefly,  at  the  back,  behind  the  chair 
where  George  Wendern  was  to  sit;  through  them 
was  a  little  pathway  to  the  door  that  led  out  on  to 
the  lawn.  "He  said  he  would  come  in  that  way," 
Mrs.  Berwick  explained.  "I  suppose  he  thought 
it  would  be  better  than  walking  the  whole  length 
of  the  room. " 

But  Katherine  divined  the  reason.  If  this  sup- 
per was  to  be  the  end  of  all  things,  he  wanted  to 
take  a  last  look  at  the  lawn  they  had  so  often 
walked  up  and  down — at  the  sycamore-tree  they 
had  lingered  beneath  in  the  happy  days  of  the 
early  summer.  "He  knows  I  love  him,"  she 
thought.  "Perhaps  he  felt  it  would  give  him 
courage  to  look  up  at  our  windows  before  he  faced 
these  people,  or —  "  she  remembered  that  he  had 
told  her  how  the  lights  in  them  had  seemed  to  look 
towards  him  at  night  with  friendly  eyes. 

273 


George  Wendern 

Mrs.  Berwick  reached  down  a  little  bronze 
stand,  a  couple  of  inches  high;  it  was  on  a  shelf 
near  the  fireplace.  "We  will  put  the  note  on 
it,"  she  said,  "and  the  blossoms  with  it  by  his 
plate." 

"If  I  watch,"  Katherine  said,  "I  shall  see  him 
enter;  even  if  it  is  very  dark  I  shall  make  out  his 
figure.  Oh!  shall  I  ever  hear  him  speak  to  me 
again — or  be  forgiven?" 

Then  a  thought  struck  Mrs.  Berwick — "You 
might  waylay  him?" 

But  at  that  the  girl's  pride  stepped  in.  "No,  I 
couldn't,"  she  answered,  "he  must  have  my  note 
first,  and  if  it  is  too  late  it  must  be  so.  But,  oh ! 
if  I  could  get  some  sign  to-night " 

"Watch  from  your  window;  you  will  be  able 
to  see  the  dining-room  darkened  again  when  the 
supper  is  over?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  go  down  to  your  garden  and  stand  by  the 
little  gate.  If  all  is  well  I'll  send  him  to  you. " 

"But  if  not?  If  he  is  hard  and  tears  up  the 
letter,  you  won't  let  him  know  that  I  am  there — 
waiting?" 

"I  will  come  to  you,  I  can  easily — and  unless 
he  wants  to  come,  he  shall  never  know." 

Still  Katherine  hesitated.  "  Promise, "  she  said, 
"not  to  tell  him  if— he  is  cruel." 

274 


Gave  a  Party 

"I  swear  he  shall  never  know." 

"But — if  he  won't — you — you  will  come — and 
tell  me?" 

"I  will  come." 

Then  Katherine  took  Mrs.  Berwick's  hand  and 
hesitated.  Her  heart  was  too  full  of  weariness 
and  dread  and  misery  to  feel  more  than  relieved 
and  grateful,  and  she  had  never  been  quite  sure 
that  she  liked  Mrs.  Berwick.  Now  in  this  crisis 
she  could  only  think  of  the  man  she  loved  and 
had  probably  lost,  but,  with  something  akin  to 
self-reproach,  she  stooped  and  kissed  the  woman 
who  seemed  like  a  spar  thrown  from  the  wreck. 

"You've  been  very  good  to  me,"  she  said. 
"I'll  remember  it  all  my  life."  She  drew  the 
black  cloud-like  wrap  close  about  her  and  hurried 
away;  it  seemed  as  if  darkness  followed  her. 


275 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

ELEVEN  o'clock.  George  Wendern  had  not 
come.  Mrs.  Berwick  was  in  the  drawing- 
room  receiving  the  guests.  A  strange  motley  crew 
— city  speculators,  the  expectant  shareholders, 
fat  men  and  thin,  Lazarus  the  Jew,  Mr.  Bulson 
looking  very  gentlemanlike;  Digby,  truculent  still 
but  curious  and  interested;  and  in  the  midst  Sir 
John  Carneford,  evidently  embarrassed  at  being 
where  he  was,  and  like  the  rest  astounded  at 
finding  no  host,  only  a  dainty-looking  hostess  in 
grey  satin,  apologetic  and  very  anxious  to  pro- 
pitiate them. 

"Think  I  understand  you're  not  Mrs.  Wen- 
dern?" a  lean  man  inquired. 

"No,  I'm  Mrs.  Berwick,"  she  said  with  what 
she  hoped  was  an  easy  but  haughty  smile,  "a 
great  friend  of  Mr.  Wendern's. " 

"No  doubt,  a  very  great  friend,"  whispered  a 
City  man,  who  took  himself  to  be  humourous  and 
fascinating. 

They  talked  a  little  to  each  other,  not  very 
easily,  and  stared  round  almost  suspiciously  at 
the  handsome  room. 

276 


George  Wendern  Gave  a  Party 

At  a  quarter  past  eleven  Rogers  threw  open 
the  double  doors  of  the  drawing-room  and  an- 
nounced supper. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  we  are  to  begin  without 
him?"  Digby  asked,  eager  for  the  feast  but  ready 
to  bark  on  principle. 

"He  will  be  here  directly,"  Mrs.  Berwick  an- 
swered; she  hesitated  and  waved  her  grey  fan 
to  and  fro,  wondering  what  the  procedure  should 
be. 

Sir  John  Carneford  stepped  forward,  "Pray 
allow  me,"  he  offered  her  his  arm,  "Dear  me, 
music  too, "  he  said  as  they  passed  the  band  which 
had  just  installed  itself  on  the  landing,  "Wendern 
is  treating  us  very  handsomely. " 

The  others  followed  sheepishly,  "I  suppose  he 
means  to  come?"  They  whispered  and  hesitated 
at  the  door  speaking  about  the  article  in  the  finan- 
cial paper;  only  two  of  them  appeared  to  have 
seen  it,  but  the  others  were  told  of  it. 

"I'm  sure  your  place  should  be  next  to  Mr. 
Wendern,"  Mrs.  Berwick  said  with  one  of  her 
tactful  smiles  as  they  entered  the  supper-room, 
regretting  that  Sir  John  was  not  to  sit  by  her. 
"His  very  great  friend  Mr.  Parker  will  be  here 
directly,"  she  wondered  how  much  longer  her 
voice  would  hold  out.  "He  is  to  sit  by  me." 

The  band  played  softly  the  waltz  from  Faust. 

277 


George  Wendern 

Mrs.  Berwick  had  chosen  it;  she  loved  Faust. 
The  guests  sat  down  slowly.  The  scene  appeared 
to  hypnotise  them.  There  were  shaded  lights 
on  the  table,  but  the  decorations  were  so  low  that 
she  could  see  plainly  Wendern's  place  at  the  other 
end,  and  the  little  note  on  the  bronze  stand  with 
the  blossoms  beside  it.  The  orange-trees  beyond 
and  the  palms  almost  suggested  a  tropical  forest 
with  the  night  upon  them,  for  they  were  dark  and 
the  effect  was  not  spoilt  by  lights  among  them, 
only  the  yellow  of  an  orange  showed  here  and  there 
and  high  up  near  the  top  of  the  trees  patches  of 
deep  grey  sky  glinted  through,  a  half  mysterious 
background  to  the  flaunting  gorgeous  feast. 

The  men  looked  at  the  dishes  curiously,  ate, 
and  were  silent  at  first,  but  they  evidently  thought 
it  the  right  thing  to  make  occasional  remarks  to 
Mrs.  Berwick.  As  the  wine  went  to  their  heads, 
they  treated  her  with  less  deference  and  more  friend- 
liness, presently  one  or  two  of  them  even  ventured 
a  joke  that  was  at  least  in  doubtful  taste.  Luckily 
Mr.  Bulson's  attentions  were  a  sort  of  safety  valve, 
and  the  satin  dress  and  the  air  of  aloofness  with 
which  she  waved  the  feather  fan  kept  the  men  in 
order. 

"Handsome  room,"  one  of  them  said  to  his 
neighbour  when  they  began  to  be  more  at  ease. 

"Very,"  the  speaker  was  the  lean  man,  he 
278 


Gave  a  Party 

looked  like  a  money  lender;  "pictures  must  have 
run  into  a  good  bit  of  money. " 

"May  have  picked  them  up  ? "  another  suggested. 

And  the  supper  went  on. 

"Very  rum  move  getting  us  here  to-night,"  a 
little  man  near  the  other  end  remarked,  addressing 
himself  to  Sir  John  Carneford. 

"Most  extraordinary,"  the  grave  cultured  tone 
had  a  certain  effect  on  the  assembly.  "In  fact 
I'm  wholly  at  a  loss  to  understand  it. " 

"Australian  manners,  perhaps." 

"Well,  it's  to  be  hoped  he  hasn't  taken  a  trip 
back  there?"  came  from  far  down  the  table. 

"What's  your  opinion,  ma'am?" 

"He  will  join  us  directly,"  Mrs.  Berwick  an- 
swered haughtily. 

"Meanwhile  he  has  given  us  a  splendid  supper." 

"And  excellent  champagne,"  put  in  Mr.  Bulson, 
"of  which  I  flatter  myself  I'm  a  judge." 

Still  no  sign  of  Wendern.  Mrs.  Berwick  was 
growing  sick  with  fear.  She  wondered  how  many 
more  dishes  there  were  to  come,  to  fill  the  terrible 
moments. 

"I  think  I  know  that  thing  they're  playing," 
a  man  said  to  her  presently,  when  after  a  pause 
the  band  had  struck  up  again.  "I've  heard  my 
wife  play  it  at  home,  do  you  happen  to  know  what 
it  is?"  ' 

279 


George  Wendern 

"It's  The  Steersman's  Song  from  'The  Flying 
Dutchman,'"  she  answered  coldly,  and  in  her  ears 
rang  the  words,  "a  rudderless  ship,  a  rudderless 
ship."  She  had  marked  it  with  a  sort  of  despera- 
tion when  she  looked  over  the  programme  the 
leader  of  the  band  suggested. 

Sir  John  was  losing  his  patience,  "It  is  really 
a  most  extraordinary  proceeding  of  Mr.Wendern's, 
inviting  us  to  supper  and  then  not  being  here  to 
receive  us,"  he  repeated. 

The  champagne  in  the  bottle  near  the  man  op- 
posite was  getting  low,  and  he  answered  thickly, 
"Handsome  lady  to  do  it,  what  more  do  you 
want?  I  vote  that  we  drink  her  health." 

"Well,  I  won't  refuse  to  do  that,  for  I  shouldn't 
think  she  felt  very  easy,"  Digby  said  with  a  dis- 
agreeable smile.  He  sat  near  the  middle  of  the 
table. 

"Oh,  please  not,  please  not,"  she  entreated, 
"Mr.  Wendern  will  be  here  directly,  you  must 
drink  his." 

"We'll  see  him  first  and  ask  what  he  thinks  of 
the  article  in  the  paper  this  morning. " 

"Of  course  it  would  have  been  a  very  different 
one  if  he  had  bribed  them."  Mrs.  Berwick  re- 
membered Wendern's  remark;  she  always  picked 
up  a  hint  quickly. 

Mr.  Bulson  leant  forward,  he,  too,  was  growing 
280 


Gave  a  Party 

more  familiar,  "Did  Wendern  give  you  that  dia- 
mond star?"  he  whispered. 

"It  was  a  gift  from  my  husband,"  she  looked 
grave,  as  became  an  awakened  memory. 

"That  chap  down  there  is  a  diamond  merchant, 
he'll  tell  you  what  it's  worth  to  a  shilling. " 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  it  valued."  It  had  cost  a 
guinea  in  Regent  Street:  she  pulled  the  lace  scarf 
nervously  over  it. 

"Well,  I  don't  care  whether  the  South  African 
markets  are  upset  by  rubber  or  not,"  Digby  was 
heard  saying  a  few  minutes  later.  "What  I  want 
to  know  is,  are  we  going  to  get  our  money  back  to- 
night? Or  what's  to  be  the  upshot  of  getting  us 
here  in  this  manner — I  believe  we're  all  in  the 
same  boat?" 

"We've  signed  transfers,  but  we  haven't  got  our 
money. " 

"And  it  strikes  me  we  shan't." 

"Perhaps  this  supper  is  thrown  to  us  as  a  sop." 

"If  he's  playing  tricks  I'll  be  down  on  him,  he 
shan't  gag  me  with  his  stuff, "  Digby  thumped  his 
fist  on  the  table  and  took  another  helping  of 
mayonnaise. 

"Quite  right,  serve  him  right  if  we  smash  up  his 
place." 

"Hush,  remember  the  lady,"  Mr.  Bulson  said 
in  a  horrified  voice. 

281 


George  Wendern 

"Perhaps  if  the  truth's  known  she's  no  better 
off  than  we're  likely  to  be. " 

"Oh,  but  I  am— I  am,"  Mrs.  Berwick  hardly 
knew  what  she  was  saying.  "Please  don't  be 
so  agitated,  gentlemen — "  she  was  listening  still 
to  the  strains  of  "The  Flying  Dutchman,"  rising 
and  falling  above  the  din  of  the  table. 

"If  he's  fooling  us,  by  God — "  a  bull-necked 
man  began. 

"No,  no,"  she  said,  raising  her  voice  so  as  to  be 
heard,  "you'll  be  satisfied,  all  of  you,  before  you 
leave  the  table. " 

But  she  realised  that  the  supper  was  more  than 
halfway  through. 

"Well,  I  hope  we  shall." 

"I  doubt  it,"  another  thick  voice  said. 

"  So  do  I — and  I  should  like  to  know  where  he  is  ? " 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  an  express  train 
to-night  and  a  ship  to-morrow  is  the  answer." 

A  cry  of  satisfaction  came  from  Mrs.  Berwick's 
lips.  Joe  Parker  entered,  and  stood  for  a  moment 
hesitating  near  the  door.  "Here  is  one  of  Mr. 
Wendern's  oldest  friends — from  Australia,"  she 
cried.  "Perhaps  he  has  brought  him?"  but  her 
heart  sank  when  she  saw  that  he  was  alone. 

"Good  evening,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  trying 
to  put  a  good  face  on  things.  "I  hope  you've  left 
some  supper  for  me?" 

282 


Gave  a  Party 

"A  little  late,  like  the  host,"  one  of  them  re- 
marked. 

"Did  you  find  him?"  she  asked  in  a  low  voice 
as  he  moved  to  the  place  on  her  right. 

He  answered  her  back  gloomily,  "No." 

Quite  suddenly  her  self-control  gave  way  and 
a  cry  escaped  her,  "He's  dead,  he's  dead,  I  know 
it,  he  has  killed  himself,  or  he  has  been  killed  in  a 
motor  smash,"  she  cried. 

The  faces  turned  towards  her  aghast,  and  for  a 
moment  there  was  a  dead  silence,  save  for  the  band 
on  the  stairs  which  seemed  to  be  louder  and  more 
distinct;  the  servants  stood  still,  petrified  and 
scared,  the  man  in  possession  looked  through  the 
crack  of  the  open  door.  Then  Joe  Parker's  voice 
was  heard,  strong  and  firm,  as  he  stood  up  to  speak, 
"George  Wendern  is  not  dead,  and  he's  not  stay- 
ing away  if  he  can  help  it,  I'm  certain  of  that,  he's 
not  the  sort;  and  if  he'd  been  smashed  up  in  the 
motor  I  should  have  heard  of  it — with  what  I've 
been  doing. "  He  sat  down  to  his  supper  and  let 
them  talk. 

"Is  this  a  plant,  then?" 

"That's  it — you  bet." 

"Rather  neat, I  call  it," came  through  a  squeaky 
laugh. 

"A  trick " 

"While  he  gets  quietly  off." 
283 


George  Wendern 

"And  I  believe  you  are  in  it,"  the  bull-necked 
man  shook  his  fist  at  Mrs.  Berwick. 

"Part  of  his  game,"  another  voice  said. 

"You  may  always  lay  odds  on  a  woman  know- 
ing." 

A  tide  was  setting  in  against  her.  Parker  sprang 
to  his  feet  again  and  turned  upon  them  with  the 
look  of  a  man  whose  fists  might  be  dangerous, 
"You  slow  down,  every  one  of  you,"  he  said,  "or 
I'll  make  you." 

"Where's  Wendern?" 

"Yes,  where's  Wendern?" 

"Has  he  levanted?" 

"And  what  does  this  affair  mean?" 

Digby  dashed  his  empty  glass  to  the  ground, 
"The  whole  thing  is  a  put-up  job,"  he 
shouted.  "Look  here,  gentlemen,  I'm  going  to 
speak." 

They  had  risen  to  their  feet,  their  faces  were 
turned  indignantly  towards  Mrs.  Berwick  and 
Parker.  The  only  calm  man  among  them  was 
Sir  John  Carneford.  They  were  in  no  mood  to 
listen  to  Digby,  each  man  wanted  to  be  heard 
above  the  rest. 

"Where's  Wendern?" 

"Where's  Wendern?"  they  shouted. 

"  Oh,  we  would  give  the  whole  world  to  know," 

284 


Gave  a  Party 

Mrs.  Berwick  gasped,  and  shivered  as  the  broken 
glass  was  gathered  up. 

"Ay,  that  we  would,"  Parker  said  under  his 
breath,  but  it  was  heard. 

"You  two  know  well  enough." 

"And  so  will  we  before  we  move  from  this 
table,"  the  thick  voice  put  in. 

"We'll  break  everything  before  we  go,"  Digby 
shouted,  and  threw  down  another  glass.  "  He 
shan't  fool  us  for  nothing." 

Quite  unnoticed  Wendern  came  through  the 
orange-trees  at  the  back.  He  looked  calm  and 
collected,  his  head  was  erect,  his  shoulders  well  put 
back,  a  curious  light  in  his  eyes.  He  stood  at  the 
place  laid  for  him,  looking  at  the  rowdy,  blatant 
set  of  men  he  had  gathered  together;  then  he  sent 
a  little  confident  smile  across  the  flowers  to  Mrs. 
Berwick;  but  she  was  too  frightened  to  take 
her  eyes  away  from  the  excited  crowd  of  angry 
faces. 

Parker,  the  only  one  who  had  seen  him,  raised 
his  hand  and  said,  "Well,  if  you  want  George 
Wendern,  he  is  there." 

The  noise  ceased  abruptly,  the  faces  turned  to 
the  end  of  the  table  at  which  he  stood,  waiting 
for  their  recognition. 

A  cry  of  joy  that  ended  in  an  agonized  hysteri- 
cal laugh,  came  from  Mrs.  Berwick. 

285 


George  Wendern 

The  rest  looked  at  him  in  bewildered  silence. 

"I  am  late,  gentlemen,  but  Mrs.  Berwick  I 
know  has  done  the  honours  for  me.  I  have 
motored  a  great  many  miles  in  the  last  six  hours 
in  your  interests,  and  should  have  been  back  in 
time  to  receive  you  but  for  the  indiscretion  of  a 
tyre.  I  apologise  for  my  absence." 

They  recovered  a  little  from  their  surprise. 
"I  should  think  so,  inviting  us  to  supper  and  not 
being  here,"  came  an  angry  growl. 

"A  most  extraordinary  proceeding,"  Sir  John 
said  severely. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  Digby  asked. 

"What  about  our  shares?" 

"We  want  to  know  about  this  Syndicate?"  the 
man  next  Joe  Parker  said. 

"Yes,  and  at  once.  We  hear  it's  a  wild-cat 
scheme 

"Nothing  else." 

Wendern  looked  from  one  to  the  other  till  the 
tumult  had  somewhat  subsided. 

"Sit  down,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  and  they 
obeyed  him.  He  remained  standing  himself,  he 
raised  his  head  a  little  higher  while  he  spoke, 
calmly  but  defiantly.  "You  shall  know  about  the 
Syndicate.  It  is  worthless,  and  a  swindle — 

They  sprang  from  their  chairs  with  rage,  they 
seemed  about  to  go  forward  and  seize  him.  He 

286 


Gave  a  Party 

put  up  his  hands  as  if  to  hold  them  back,  and  said 
sternly,  "Be  quiet!  Your  money  is  lost — so  is  mine." 

"What's  that  to  us,  we  want  ours." 

"You  knew  it  was  a  swindle  all  along,"  Digby 
shouted. 

"I  knew  it  a  week  ago,  when  Lant  arrived  in 
England;  not  before." 

There  were  groans  and  sounds  of  derision. 

Wendern  went  on.  "Lant  told  me  then  that  the 
money  subscribed  was  spent,  and  he  had  come  to 
England  with  a  reconstruction  scheme  to  get  more. 
I  refused  to  hear  of  this  at  first.  Then  I  consented 
not  to  oppose  it  on  condition  that  he  paid  off  the 
little  shareholders — some  of  them  had  staked  all 
they  possessed.  They  had  their  money  back 
yesterday;  they  have  learnt  a  lesson  and  are 
safe." 

They  were  subdued  now,  waiting  for  what  was  to 
come. 

"But  what  about  us?"  one  of  them  asked. 

"You  all  came  into  the  Syndicate  as  a  specula- 
tion, but  on  the  strength  of  my  name;  that  is  why 
I  have  called  you  together.  The  rest — those  other 
shareholders  who  remain  unpaid,  and  who  are  not 
here,  came  in  through  Christopher  Lant,  let  them 
settle  their  accounts  with  him.  For  your  shares 
you  have  executed  transfers.  I  presume  you  have 
them  with  you?" 

287 


George  Wendern 

There  were  sounds  of  assent. 

"  I  wanted  to  take  them  up  and  send  you  away 
to-night  with  the  money  in  your  pockets " 

"Are  you  going  to  do  it?" 

" — that  is  why  I  invited  you  all,  a  party  of  a 
sort  I  expect  that  has  never  been  given  before; 
it  was  a  queer  fancy  of  mine. "  He  looked  at  them 
curiously,  they  seemed  almost  to  amuse  him. 

"Are  we  going  to  have  the  money  ?"  Digby  asked 
in  a  bullying  tone. 

Wendern  took  no  notice,  and  went  on.  "A 
lawsuit  in  which  I  had  two  hundred  thousand 
pounds  at  stake  was  about  to  be  decided " 

There  were  sounds  of  coming  disappointment. 

"That  is  why  I  called  you  together,  with  the 
Derryford  Dock  suit " 

"It  went  against  you — it  is  in  the  evening 
paper ' 

"Yes,  gentlemen,  it  went  against  me.  Lant 
promised  that  if  it  had  not  been  decided,  or  if  it 
had  and  went  against  me,  he  would  lend  me 
enough  to  pay  off  your  shares.  I  was  to  see  him 
at  the  Grosvenor  Hotel  this  evening.  That  is 
why  I  was  not  here  to  meet  you " 

"Mr.  Lant's  quite  right — he's  a  gentleman " 

"Has  he  done  it?"  a  tall  man  inquired,  standing 
up  to  put  his  question. 

"No!  Perhaps  he  saw  the  evening  paper  too. 
288 


Gave  a  Party 

He  is  on  board  his  yacht,  out  in  the  open  sea  by 
this  time,  and  has  left  me  to  face  the  music. " 

Parker,  who  had  risen  to  his  feet  and  stood  look- 
ing at  his  friend  in  amazement,  broke  in  with— 
"Look  here,  George,  I've  something  to  say " 

"You  be  quiet,"  barked  a  man  near  him. 

Sir  John  held  up  his  hand.  "Gentlemen,"  he 
said,  struck  by  Wendern's  manner,  "I  feel  sure 
that  our  host  has  something  to  add,  let  us  listen 
to  him. " 

Wendern  looked  round  at  the  strange  throng 
and  went  on  with  a  little  smile  in  his  eyes.  "Be- 
fore I  went,  I  made  up  my  mind  if  Lant  played  us 
false  to  pay  the  penalty 

"Penalty?"  a  voice  cried,  and  all  the  faces  were 
curious. 

"Last  week  one  of  the  shareholders — Mr. 
Digby,  I  think — said  that  directors  of  fraudulent 
concerns  ought  to  suffer  capital  punishment.  I 
entirely  agreed  with  him,  and  promised  that  he 
should  come  to  my  execution." 

"Oh!  dear  Mr.  Wendern,"  Mrs.  Berwick  cried; 
"not  now! — the  letter — and  flowers!"  for  Wen- 
dern had  not  yet  noticed  them,  and  she  had  tried 
in  vain  to  make  a  sign. 

"George,  let  me  speak — "  Parker  insisted. 

But  Wendern  took  no  notice.  "If  Lant  had 
kept  his  word  you  would  have  found  me  ready  to 

289 


George  Wendern 

hand  you  your  money,  if  he  broke  it  I  determined 
you  should  see  a  dead  man,"  he  put  his  hand  in 
his  pocket;  a  cry  came  from  Mrs.  Berwick's  lips 
again.  He  seemed  suddenly  to  remember  her 
presence  with  dismay,  and  leaning  forward  and 
speaking  down  the  table  between  the  two  rows 
of  men,  he  said  in  a  kindly  tone  to  Parker,  "Joe, 
she  oughtn't  to  be  here,  take  her  away." 

"Oh  no,"  she  cried,  "let  me  stay,  do  let  me  stay 
— and  oh,  do  look  at  the  letter  and  flowers  by  your 
place."  He  looked  down  at  them  absently  with- 
out touching  them  or  taking  in  that  they  were  for 
him. 

"She  is  all  right,"  Parker  called  back,  "and  I 
want  to  speak " 

But  Wendern  waved  him  to  silence  again  and 
went  on.  "Lant  had  started  for  Southampton 
half  an  hour  before  I  went  to  keep  our  appointment. 
I  calculated  the  distance  there  and  back — I  had  a 
swift  motor  and  fled  after  him — you  begin  to  see 
why  I  was  late?  When  I  reached  Southampton 
he  was  on  board  his  yacht,  already  out  of  sight — 
let  him  go — "  he  stopped  for  a  moment  and  his 
tone  changed.  "On  the  road  back  a  tyre  gave  way, 
as  I  told  you,  or  I  should  have  been  here  an  hour 
ago.  It  was  made  right,  and  on  the  last  few  miles 
I  thought  out  things  once  more,  and  felt  that  the 
alternative  I  had  imagined  would  be  an  easy  way 

290 


Gave  a  Party 

out  for  me,  but  a  coward's  way — a  bit  of  cheap 
melodrama  to  which  this  supper  had  been  a  garish 
prelude.  The  grey  sky  was  full  of  stars,  and  as  I 
whirled  under  them  along  a  road  with  tall  trees 
on  either  side,  like  giants  reproaching  me,  I  thought 
of  my  home,  thousands  of  miles  away  in  Australia. 
The  great  distances  seemed  to  be  calling  me,  to 
be  sending  me  messages  and  saying — but  it  is 
no  good  telling  you — you  would  think  it  sentiment 
or  bombast.  What  I  want  to  say  is  this — "  and 
again  his  voice  changed, — "I  am  strong,  I  can  fight 
the  world,  and  have  its  best  endowment — health 
and  experience.  Every  one  of  you  can  afford  to 
lose  your  money,  or  to  wait.  You  shall  not  lose, 
if  you  will  wait?" 

Gradually  stillness  had  come  over  the  room,  ex- 
cept for  Wendern's  voice;  the  faces  of  the  men 
were  turned  towards  him  in  wonder;  but  at  his 
last  words  there  was  a  sound  of  almost  involuntary 
impatience.  Parker,  who  all  the  time  had  been 
struggling  to  speak  in  vain,  managed  to  put  in — 
"George,  they  needn't  wait,  let  me  have  a 
word?" 

"  Be  quiet,  Joe, "  Wendern  said,  and  looked  at  his 
guests  again.  "You  are  responsible  men,  and 
should  take  your  luck  for  good  or  ill.  Wait! 
Your  money  shall  come  back  to  you  with  inter- 
est." 

291 


George  Wendern 

But  the  spell  had  been  broken  by  the  pause; 
there  were  sounds  of  derision  and  incredulity. 

Digby's  voice  was  heard  growling,  "I'm  not 
going  to  wait  for  one — and  the  others  shan't,  if 
I  know  it. " 

And  Mrs.  Berwick,  saying  under  her  breath, 
"Dear  Mr.  Wendern,  it's  so  like  you." 

Then  Sir  John  Carneford  rose  to  his  feet, 
"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "Mr.  Wendern  is  doing  a 
most  extraordinary  thing,  and  one  he  feels  and 
intends  to  be  Quixotic.  You  all  of  you  know,  as 
well  as  I  do,  that  directors,  as  a  rule,  do  not  even 
dream  of  paying  back  money  that  shareholders 
lose.  He  has  no  legal  responsibility;  he  could 
have  gone  away  and  left  us  in  the  lurch,  or  pro- 
posed the  reconstruction  scheme  and  let  us  in  for 
more  money.  He  has  himself  lost  ten  times  as 
much  as  we  have,  but  it  is  only  our  comparatively 
trivial  losses  that  appear  to  trouble  him.  I  fear 
we  have  been  unfortunate  under  his  guidance, 
but  I  feel,  nay,  more,  would  stake  my  life,  that  he 
is  an  honourable  man.  Let  us  do  as  he  says, 
make  the  best  of  a  bad  business,  as  he  is  doing, 
trust  him  and  wait. " 

Then  Parker,  whose  excitement  was  carrying 
him  away,  at  last  got  his  chance,  "You  needn't 
wait,"  he  turned  to  the  men  who  had  risen  to 
their  feet,  "you  shan't  wait,  and  you  shan't 

292 


Gave  a  Party 

have  any  interest,"  he  shouted  to  them,  and  then 
he  turned  to  Wendern.  "George,  you  wouldn't  let 
me  speak — but  you  can  pay  every  one  of  them— 
pay  them  this  minute.  Look  here — you're  not 
the  only  man  who  gets  cables.  I've  been  getting 
them  for  weeks,  and  yesterday,  and  all  day  long, 
two  to-night — and  it's  cost  me  a  pretty  bit  an- 
swering them,  I  can  tell  you."  He  pulled  the 
forms  from  his  pocket  and  waved  them  in  the  air, 
"Sandway  Strip  has  done  the  business — you'll 
get  your  cheques  to-night,  and  then  you  may  go 
home  and  sleep  soundly  in  your  beds  and  wish 
you'd  behaved  better." 

They  yelled  from  sheer  excitement,  "Get  it " 

"Hurrah!" 

"I  say,  give  three  cheers, "  came  a  drunken  voice. 

"This  is  a  rum  turn,"  was  heard  above  the  din. 

But  Wendern  was  as  cool  as  a  cucumber, 
"What  do  you  mean,  Joe,"  he  asked. 

Parker,  standing  at  the  corner  by  Mrs.  Berwick, 
looked  at  the  shareholders  with  dry  triumph. 
"He  owned  a  big  property  once  in  Australia,  and 
got  rid  of  it, "  he  told  them,  "but  he  kept  Sandway 
Strip,  the  worst  bit  of  all — just  out  of  sentiment — 
and  it's  my  belief,  gentlemen,  that  if  you've 
the  luck  to  have  it  in  you,  nothing  does  finer 
things  than  sentiment,  things  that  nothing  else 

in  the  world  would  do 

293 


George  Wendern 

"Go  on,"  they  cried,  "we  are  tired  of  talk." 

"And  on  that  bit  of  desert,  thousands  of  miles 
away,  on  which  there's  not  a  stick  of  wood  to 
light  a  fire,  nor  a  blade  of  grass  a  sheep  would  look 
at,  a  gold  mine  has  been  discovered,  one  of  the 
richest  lodes  that  has  been  struck  for  years — not  a 
pocket. " 

The  Jew's  thick  voice  interrupted,  "Gold  mines 
are  not  discovered  in  a  minute " 

And  Digby,  trying  to  maintain  his  bullying  tone 
added,  "after  eleven  o'clock  at  night " 

"I  knew  that  a  chap  had  been  worrying  round 
trying  to  buy  it,  but  I  thought  no  more  about 
it — "  Wendern  began. 

"Well,  I  did,"  Parker  interrupted  triumphantly, 
and  his  voice  went  down  the  table  clear  and  strong, 
"so  I've  been  doing  some  prospecting  on  my  own 
account  and  saying  nothing  about  it.  I  hope  you'll 
forgive  the  trespass,  George,  I  told  you  I  was  up  to 
something. " 

"If  you're  not  dreaming — "  Wendern  was  keep- 
ing a  strong  hold  on  himself. 

"No,  I'm  not  dreaming — and  I'm  not  drunk, 
though  I  hope  to  be  presently.  The  Melbourne 
Bank  only  finished  up  the  expert's  report  to-day 
and  sent  their  cable  a  few  hours  ago,  the  others 
came  sooner — look  at  them,  look  at  them  for  your- 
selves," he  held  them  high.  "One's  from  the 

294 


Gave  a  Party 

bank  saying  that  you  can  draw  on  their  branch 
here  for  pretty  nearly  anything  you  please — 
they've  cabled  it." 

"Seems  like  business,"  said  the  Jew. 

Parker  left  his  place  and  went  the  length  of  the 
room  to  his  friend,  "Get  out  your  cheque-book, 
George — pay  them,  and  get  rid  of  them,  and  then 
go  back  to  your  own  property.  I  don't  think  much 
of  this  part  of  the  world,  its  ways  are  not  good 
enough, — nor  its  men  either. "  He  turned  quickly 
to  Sir  John  Carneford,  "I  make  an  exception  for 
you,  sir;  I  don't  know  who  you  are,  but  you  strike 
me  as  being  a  gentleman  and  used  to  honest  men, 
and  I'd  like  to  shake  hands  with  you. " 

"Delighted,"  they  gripped  hands. 

A  happy  smile  came  over  Wendern's  face,  a 
little  break  was  in  his  voice  as  he  turned  to  the 
table,  "This  is  astounding,"  he  said,  "as  much  to 
me  as  to  you,  my  friends — for  I  suppose  I  may  call 
you  my  friends  now,"  he  added  cynically.  Then, 
as  he  opened  the  cheque-book  he  saw  the  note  with 
the  little  bunch  of  white  flowers,  "What's  this?" 
he  asked. 

The  guests  looked  puzzled  for  a  minute,  while 
he  read  the  note,  then  crushed  it  in  his  hand,  and, 
bewildered,  stood  looking  at  the  flowers. 

But  Parker  was  impatient,  "Come,  George," 
he  said,  "you'd  better  hurry — what's  up  with  you, 

295 


George  Wendern 

don't  you  understand,  man,  you're  worth  a 
million. " 

"You  needn't  go  to  Australia  now,"  a  voice 
shouted. 

But  he  answered,  "Yes,  I  shall.  Back  to  the 
open,  to  begin  all  things;  as  they  did  when  the 
gold  in  the  earth  had  not  yet  been  turned  into 
money  for  the  devil  to  play  with — as  he  will  play 
with  it,  till  man  has  taken  in  a  sense  of  its  re- 
sponsibility. That's  what  we  all  have  to  learn, 
my  friends,  what  I'm  going  to  think  out " 

"Well,  don't  preach  them  a  sermon,  George, 
but  write  your  cheques,"  Parker  cried.  "I  got 
a  list  of  the  names  and  the  sums  from  Dawson  this 
afternoon, — though  I  daresay  you've  got  one  too 
in  your  pocket?" 

Wendern  nodded. 

"All  the  same,  I'd  rather  you  took  mine;  I 
don't  like  doing  things  for  nothing.  Sit  down 
and  write  and  get  rid  of  them, "  he  insisted  bluntly. 
"I  believe  they've  got  their  transfers  and  certi- 
ficates ready." 

"This  is  the  hour  of  my  life,"  Wendern  said,  and 
did  as  he  was  told;  a  look  of  almost  delirious  hap- 
piness was  in  his  eyes. 

"A  wonderful  hour  indeed, "  Sir  John  said. 

"Drink  to  it,"  shouted  Parker,  going  towards 
the  door, — "drink  to  it,  while  I  go  and  tell  those 

296 


Gave  a  Party 

chaps  to  play  something  more  lively  than  the  noise 
they  are  making  up  there." 

Joe  Parker  had  not  learnt  to  appreciate  Wagner. 
They  had  struck  up  "The  Steersman's  Song" 
again;  it  was  changed  for  "The  Merry  Widow." 
He  looked  at  Mrs.  Berwick  and  nodded. 

When  they  had  gone,  Mrs.  Berwick  went  up  to 
Wendern  and  took  his  hand;  in  the  other  he  still 
held  the  note  and  flowers.  "I  want  you  to  come 
with  me,"  she  said.  They  went  through  the 
orange-trees  and  out  by  the  door.  "Go  across  the 
lawn,"  she  whispered;  "you'll  find  her  waiting  for 
you  under  the  sycamore-tree  by  the  little  gate." 

She  went  in  with  a  lagging  step.  Buf  she  was 
satisfied. 

Katherine  saw  him  coming  through  the  dark- 
ness; the  dim  twinkling  lights  of  the  house  behind 
him  seemed  to  recede  and  the  air  to  grow  very  still. 
She  quailed  as  he  drew  near;  she  was  still 
swathed  in  the  black  chiffon,  as  if  she  feared  her 
hopes  would  turn  to  ashes. 

He  stood  silently  in  front  of  her. 

"Is  it  too  late?" — her  voice  shook — "too  late 
to  be  forgiven?" 

"I  didn't  know  that  there  was  anything  to  for- 
give," he  said  coldly,  "and  I  don't  understand 
your  change  of  front?" 

"Oh!" 

297 


George  Wendern 

"Have  you  thrown  Ken  ton  over  too?"  The 
last  word  pulled  her  together. 

"Yes,  I've  thrown  him  over  too,"  she  echoed. 
"There  was  no  reason  to  go  on  when  he  had  the 
new  title  and  a  great  fortune." 

"Didn't  he  love  you?" 

"I  think  he  liked  me,"  she  said  in  a  dull  even 
tone,  as  if  she  felt  the  interview  was  going  to  be 
hopeless.  "And  he  saw  that  it  would  be  a  good 
thing  to  do.  But  he  didn't  love  me  as  you  do — as 
you  did,"  she  corrected  herself.  "I  daresay  he'll 
marry  the  little  actress. " 

"Well,  there'll  be  some  adjustment  in  that. 
And  you  mean  that  you  never  really  cared  about 
him?" 

She  was  stung  by  his  tone,  but  still  she  fought 
against  it.  She  raised  her  head,  and  he  saw  her 
face  plainly,  as  he  had  seen  it  that  night  at 
Brighton  when  the  sea  was  whispering  up  to 
them. 

"I  thought  I  had  made  it  clear,"  she  said. 
"I  was  in  love  with  what  seemed  to  be  a  fine 
thing  to  do — the  right  thing  in  return  for  all  I 
had  had  given  me.  My  head  was  in  love  with 
the  deed  and  my  heart  with  you.  I  played  my 
head  against  my  heart,  and  the  head  won. " 

And  again  he  stood  looking  at  her  without  say- 
ing a  word. 

298 


Gave  a  Party 

She  went  on  desperately,  with  her  hands  crossed 
on  her  chest.  "It  was  you  I  loved.  I  have  loved 
you  from  the  first  night  we  met.  There  has  never 
been  any  one  else  in  the  world  for  me.  But  I 
wanted  to  be — or  to  do — something  big.  There 
was  no  self-sacrifice — women  love  self-sacrifice, 
don't  you  know  that? — none  in  taking  the  man 
I  loved;  but  there  was — in  what  I  was  going  to 
do,  and  it  couldn't  be  done  unless  I  gave  myself 
with  the  money." 

"You  would  have  been  a  peeress,"  he  said 
bitterly;  "and  there  is  your  duty  to  your  father's 
money,  have  you  forgotten?" 

"No,  I  have  forgotten  nothing — and  I  tried— 
I  have  felt  and  dreamt  fine  things — impossible 
things — just  as  you  did."  She  stopped,  and  then 
as  if  she  could  say  no  more  she  added  with  a  little 
sound  that  was  like  a  sob,  though  there  were  no 
tears  in  her  eyes,  "I  did  what  I  did — but  I  kept 
him  off — your  kiss  is  still  on  my  lips,  George,  and 
no  man's  shall  ever  come  on  top  of  it. " 

"And  now?" 

"I  know  the  lawsuit  has  gone  against  you,  that 
everything  has  gone  wrong  with  you,"  she  had 
evidently  not  heard  of  Sandway  Strip;  "but  I 
could  make  everything  right." 

"No,"  he  said  quickly,  and  drew  back  as  if  he 
had  been  stung,  "I  don't  want  you  to  do  the  sort 

299 


George  Wendern 

of  thing  for  me  that  you  wanted  to  do  for  Derby- 
shire." 

"I  only  want  you  to  be  free,"  she  pleaded  hum- 
bly, "free  to  take  me  away — to  the  shanty  you 
talked  of,  I  don't  want  either  of  us  to  have  more 
than  will  take  us  there?  You  said  we  might  be 
two  happy  beggars  by  the  wayside,  going  on  to 
seek  the  magic  way — it's  what  I  want  to  do?" 

"God  knows  I  have  loved  you,"  he  said  slowly, 
as  if  it  were  all  over. 

"And  I  you,"  she  answered.  "I  do  now.  I 
will  all  my  life.  But  you  can't  forgive  me,"  she 
stopped  and  turned  to  go. 

Then  he  put  his  arms  round  her,  "  Beloved, "  he 
said,  "so  much  has  happened  to-night — too  much 
for  any  man  to  bear.  But  if  you  think  I  might 
risk  death  from  excess  of  happiness — might  pile 
it  up  still  higher " 

She  made  a  sound  of  joy,  and  he  held  her 
closer. 

"I  must  go  in,"  she  said  at  last,  "it  is  time." 
"Come  across  and  look  at  the  dining-room  for 

a  moment." 
The  door  was  still  open;    the  lights  had  been 

extinguished  all  but  a  stray  one  here  and  there. 

They  stood  outside,  but  they  caught  the  breath 

of  the  orange-trees,  and  through  them  they  could 

300 


Gave  a  Party 

see  in  the  dim  room  all  the  confusion  and  signs  of 
the  feast  that  had  been. 

"George   Wendern   gave   a   party,"   she   said. 
They  laughed  and  turned  back  towards  the  house. 

THE    END. 


301 


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